Pictures of Success
by schwartzibrow
Summary: AU: What happens when Mia falls for the guy slated to play Josh in the movie of her life? Note: Not Erik Von Detten.
1. What's a Genovia?

And we're back. This is an alternative-universe story, meaning it's not much like what you read in the Meg Cabot tales. Michael's a movie star slated to play Josh in the movie about Mia's life. He and Mia haven't met and Lilly isn't a part of her life either.

Just read. It gets mighty good.

Oh, and the title of the story comes froma Rilo Kiley song, though the lyrics don't match, I don't believe.

Mia's POV

Oh.

My.

God.

WHAT IS HER PROBLEM?

When someone says, "Amelia, I have a treat for you", I'm expecting, like, a gift certificate to the GAP or maybe some pop-rocks.

But I probably should have learned by now what to expect from my grandmother. And it's so not candy.

Just imagine poor, innocent me, strolling into princess lessons as usual. But what do I find? Not just Clarisse Renaldo with a tray of scones and a lifetime's worth of anal retention.

No, my grandmother was perched primly in one of the armchairs, and at her side was this middle-aged guy in all black with an expensive-looking haircut and Italian boots.

"Um," I greeted them brilliantly.

"Amelia," said Grandmere, forcing a smile. "This is Jacques Dulles, a film-maker from the Holly Wood."

Pssh. Only she would call it that.

And what is JACQUES DULLES doing here? He made 'Death and Destruction'! And…and 'Devotion'!

Both of which star only the CUTEST guy ever. You must know who I'm talking about. EVERYBODY knows him.

Michael Wilson.

God….those eyes! What lips! And that BODY.

Ahem, I'm getting a tad off-topic. What was I saying?

"You remember that surprise I told you about?" said Grandmere, now glaring at my open mouth and wide eyes. I quickly straightened.

"Yes, ma'am."

"I have enlisted Jacques' help!" she said and Jacques smiled widely, nodding at me.

At first I thought maybe I was going to be in a movie. Like Dirty Dancing or something.

Maybe Michael Wilson could play my love interest! Oh, that'd be SO HOT.

Except the fact that I can't act. I have a hard time getting out "Yes, I did my homework" or "Of course I like crumpets, Grandmere" while keeping a straight face. How am I supposed to do this?

"He'll be directing the movie of your life!" she proclaimed, clapping her hands together in glee.

Well.

What else can I say, but…

AHHHHHHHH!!!!!!

Michael's POV

You'd think after 26 films and a three freaking Teen Choice awards that I'd get a little more respect. Like, maybe, just maybe, I wouldn't have to do these stupid teenybopper movies. Perhaps I'd be allowed to do something with SUBSTANCE.

No offense, but 'Love Signals' didn't exactly sweep the Oscars. Even though I took off my shirt and made the puppy eyes and proclaimed my love for the girl in a grand gesture, as usual.

Where's bad?

Let me tell you where bad is…bad is when I can't have any sort of stubble on my chin. Bad is when I have to shave my chest. Bad is when I have to be hustled out of the mall in a laundry cart.

The truth is, I like to act. I love it even! And frankly, I'm great at it.

But when every movie I do is the same filth recycled over and over again, I'm not getting anywhere. Or at least the places I want to be. Which isn't the cover of Tiger Beat, surprisingly.

But I'm successful. And wanted. Needed, really, or else the girlies would be stuck with Justin Timberlake as their main leading man.

I can't do that to them, can I? At least, that's what my agent tells me.

"You don't look cool like that," her assistant said, pulling the cigarette out of my mouth. We're sitting in my trailer, discussing some sort of business or another. I find myself not really caring any more.

When I first got into this, I was a wide-eyed, enthusiastic idiot. I did what I was told and got damn rich off of it.

Now, five years later, I want out. I want to freaking grow up. It's like Neverland around here…but with no Michael Jackson, thank God.

"We dealt with your little stalker," said Beverly, my agent, as her assistant tossed my cigarette in the trashcan. Little wanker.

"Which one?" I asked nonchalantly. Believe me, this is no extraordinary occurrence.

"The one who found your parents' phone number and keeps leaving messages about That Movie."

Ah. That Movie. I know what she's talking about, of course. It's the one we don't discuss because it's worse than all my stupid teen romantic comedies all put together.

Extraterrestrials in the Outback.

There, I said it. And it's absolutely TERRIBLE. Bad effects, bad acting, and horrible plot. But all my hardcore fans like to find copies and bug me about it incessantly.

"Well, that's good," I said, stretching out on the couch. "Lilly, get me a beer."

The assistant nodded and bustled over to the mini-fridge. But then the little brat came back with a Coke. "We can't have you getting a nasty protruding belly," she told me with a sickly sweet smile. "The fans wouldn't like that, now would they?"

I scowled and popped open the soda anyway. God, I hate her.

Oh, back to what I was saying earlier…Beverly told me this morning that Jacques called with a film proposition. And apparently, you don't say no to Jacques Dulles.

But why can't I say no to _Jacques Dulles _when he wants me to star in the lamest movie of the year—if not the decade?

You heard it here first. I'm going to be playing 'Josh Bryant' in some lame-ass movie about the life of Princess Amelia of Genovia.

What in God's name is a Genovia anyway?

Seriously. I'd stop acting, but then I'd have to…stop acting. And I don't want that. I just want something better.

"Beverly, can I get a massage?" I mumbled, closing my eyes and sprawling out on the couch.

She ordered Lilly to call the therapist and I grinned sleepily. I must admit, being pampered is a definite perk.


	2. Rabid

Chapter Two

Mia's POV

I know I said I can't act and whatever, but who passes up the opportunity to star alongside Michael Wilson??? Not me, that's for sure. And okay, Mr. Big-Director-From-The-Holly-Wood hasn't exactly said Michael Wilson will be starring in it, and he hasn't exactly even asked me to be his co-star—yet--but I'm not going to blow this opportunity. I'm going to do something very un-Mia-like and grab the bull by the horns…Or whatever the expression is.

"Oh!" I cried dramatically. Hey, there's no harm in practising my acting abilities now, is there? Besides, maybe I have a hidden acting ability that has been shielded by my gigantic feet and non existent breasts. Maybe all I need is for someone, say, Jacques Dulles, to give me a chance! And also a chance to woo the leading man… "And you want me…"

My girly, sing-song voice was cut off by Grandmere's normal, raspy one. "Amelia, why are you talking like that? Pull your head in."

I cleared my throat and tried desperately to keep from blushing crimson from embarrassment. Not that it mattered much, Jacques wasn't even looking at me, he was too busy filing his nails with the attachment on his cell phone.

"You want me to star in it? To play myself? Oh, Mr. Dulles, I'd be honou…"

Again Grandmere cut me off, but this time it was with her high pitched cackle. Seriously, she could take on a flock of bats with her set of lungs. The Wicked Witch of the West would flee from the sound too. "You," she breathlessly said after a minute, "You actually think…" And then she set off into another fit of giggles.

I swear, if I ever laughed like that, she'd reprimand me faster than I could put my copy of Extraterrestrials in the Outback into the VCR. Funnily enough, I've never actually unwrapped it.

"Amelia." Jacques Dulles sat up and leaned towards me. I wanted to tell him to call me Mia, but if he thinks Amelia is a better Movie Star name, then so be it. Besides, apparently Michael Wilson wasn't originally called Michael Wilson. No one knows what he was really called, but I like to think it was something exotic…Only his agent told him to change it because his fans, mostly girls aged 12 to 16 wouldn't be able to spell it, let alone pronounce it. "I'm not here to cast you in the role of yourself…"

I'd kind of gathered that from Grandmere's bout of natural laughing gas, but it still hurt to hear it. Can he tell just from looking at me that I suck at acting? Even when I'm acting as MYSELF??? "You're…you're not?"

"No. We thought that it would be too difficult for you to distance yourself from the character we based on you. So we've cast Sarah Cage. I think you'll recognise her from recent movies and TV shows."

Sarah Cage. Sarah Cage will be playing me. OH MY GOD. Sarah Cage is like, only the hottest new actress to come out of The 'Wood. She's in hit TV show The Coastline, and had the lead in the recent blockbuster Takin' It Back with Will Smith. And she's going to be playing me. Geeky, nerdy, unpopular, Mia Thermopolis, in a movie which will no doubt be based on Josh Richter's total, and completely humiliating, betrayal of me. Could it get any worse?

Oh yeah, if Jacques Dulles tells me that she really is starring opposite Michael Wilson. Ha, I'll shoot myself. If only I could be that lucky in real life.

"Mr. Dulles," I said calmly, trying to process everything and think clearly. "What exactly is the movie about?"

"Well, the script is still in the works, but some of the characters, and the actors playing them will be your friend Lana, played by Wendy Moral or something, and your ex beau, Josh, played by Michael Wilson."

I'd better go load that pistol.

Michael's POV

"Michael!" The shrill voice of my agents' assistant called out to me from outside my trailer. Even on my days off from filming my latest weep-fest film, I can't get any peace.

"What?" I kicked open the door with more than a little force. I've practiced this move many times; I don't think the catch closes all the way any more, it certainly doesn't lock

Lilly didn't let the door opening in her face affect her- I guess I can't blame her. Her face is already contorted, much like one of those pug dogs, I doubt if the door had hit her it would have done any more damage. In fact, it may have even improved it. I'll have to aim better next time to see- she came barreling in anyway. "Beverly has set up a meeting for you and Jacques Dulles, this afternoon at four, which should leave you with enough time to get yourself ready for tonight's date. Who is she, anyway?"

I groaned. Sharing my dating/love life with Lilly is not something I care for. But upsetting Lilly upsets Beverly, and upsetting Beverly is a big no-no. "Jessica Winter."

"Ooh!" she cooed, plopping herself down on the edge of the small bed I was uncomfortably lying on. "Wasn't she in Cheesy Max, that cop movie?"

"Uh huh. Listen, Lilly, I gotta get ready if I'm gonna make that four o'clock meeting." I checked my watch and saw to my dismay it wasn't even noon. "So I've only got…four and a half hours. And you know how much I stress when my hair gets out of whack."

"Right," Lilly replied, totally buying it and standing up to leave. "I'll leave you to it then. Be outside your trailer at three thirty."

As soon as she left I grabbed the notes Jacques had had sent over for me to read. I better read up on this Princess's life if I'm going to have to play her boyfriend or whatever.

Whoop-de-doo.

- - -

I thought a Plaza Penthouse suite was a weird place to meet, but as an actor, I'm not supposed to argue or disagree, or give my opinion at all, really. I'm just supposed to smile and do what my agent says. And when she says go to The Plaza, I go to The Plaza. I've learned from past mistakes of not obeying her orders.

As soon as I step foot in the lobby: "Oh, my God, you're Michael

Wilson,

right?"

Can a guy not even have any privacy in a five star hotel like this? Famous people stay here all the time. Hell, world leaders stay here apparently. Where's the friggin' security?

I pushed past the girl and headed for the concierge desk, trying to block out the wheezing sound she was making. I get girls having asthma attacks around me all the time, I guess you could say I'm used to it. So I didn't let it faze me, and I didn't stop to help her. Isn't it her responsibility to carry a puffer?

The page at the desk was a girl about my age, and she was fiiiine. I turned on my charm, told her my name and asked to be let up to Penthouse #3. She clicked a few buttons, flitted her eyelashes at me a few times, and picked up a key. Then she told me to follow her towards the lifts.

Wheezing girl grabbed onto my jacket. "But, Michael Wilson…"

"Listen, kid," I told her, probably a little more roughly than I'd normally tell my fans to rack off, but Ms. Hot-Page was getting away! "I don't have time to hang around and take photos or sign anything, I have someone important to meet."

"But…"

"No buts, kid." Then I ran for the door of the lift.

Five minutes later I'd bid a fond adieu to the hot page, and was sitting comfortably across from Jacques and an older lady I didn't know.

"Did my granddaughter not come up with you?" she asked.

"Granddaughter?"

"Yes," Jacques said. "Michael, this is the Dowager Princess of Genovia, Clarisse. Her granddaughter, Princess Amelia, was going to meet you in the foyer."

I let out a little laugh. "Well, I didn't see any princesses downstairs ma'am, just a rabid fan trying to stop me for photos or something. I tell you, I never get any peace."

"Rabid fan?" The Dowager Princess repeated, cocking an eyebrow.

"Yeah, some of my fans, they get a little crazy. Like this girl, she was…" I looked at the expressions on both their faces, and it clicked. How could I be so stupid??? "You're granddaughter, wasn't she?" I finished softly.

Clarisse nodded. "I've always thought her a little…rabid myself."

"Right." I stood up and looked at Jacques. "It's okay, I'll sort it out. And I'll bring her right back up here. Sorry about the confusion."

Then I high tailed it out of there and into the lift.

Why do I always make the worst decisions concerning my career? Next time, I just stop for a minute for a quick snap, and give the girls a chance to tell me they're the real life Princess of which my next movie is based.

Is that so hard to remember?


	3. Freaking Stone Fox

Mia's POV

I can't believe this.

Michael Wilson must think I'm a total freak, because I had a mini-heart attack when I saw him stroll into the Plaza lobby, hands in his pockets and his slightly messy curls hanging adorably in his chocolate eyes.

But…holy shit.

The silver screen does him NO justice whatsoever. I've never wanted to jump anyone's bones before, but boy, did I have to restrain myself this afternoon.

However, it seems not everyone in the world saw that horrendous picture of me on the front-page of the Post, because Michael had absolutely no idea who I was. He just kind of pushed me away and kept on walking.

Of course, I understand perfectly. Being an international celebrity, you can't just stop and chill with your fans. Even though he did seem pretty willing to chat it up with the concierge.

The whole mix-up made the elevator ride up a tad awkward. My cheeks were on fire and Michael seemed content to fiddle with his cell phone after a short apology.

I can so not see him playing Josh. I mean, sure, they're both hot to the max, but while Josh attempted to use my position to gain prestige in the public's eyes, Michael doesn't need fame and could care less that I will someday rule over a little European principality.

I'm not altogether sure that this is how I want things, but it's better than being exploited just 'cuz I'm royalty. In fact, it's almost exactly how things were before the whole princess thing was sprung on me—that is, I'm completely invisible.

The elevator dinged as we finally reached the top floor, and Michael escorted me into my grandmother's suite.

Cold he may be, but lord, he's a freaking stone fox.

Michael's POV

So it's one thing to have to do this crap fest. But now I'm stuck with this hyperactive fourteen-year old who seems very set on hanging around the set…all the time.

Joy. To. The. World.

Apparently, to appease Princess Amelia's worries of being portrayed inaccurately, her grandmother and Jacques have chosen me to be her Omigod! New best friend. You know, take her around the set and all of that…fill her in on whatever she wants to know.

Jolly good fun. Maybe we'll have some tea parties…dress up our Barbies…lip-synch to Backstreet Boys in the mirror.

I don't have the stomach for this.

Maybe it won't be that bad. She doesn't look too quick on her feet. And I've had years of practice outrunning crazy fan girls.

It doesn't hurt that I feel like Aladdin when I'm darting down alleys. All I need is a cool purple vest and a monkey.

It's frightening when I'd rather be a Disney cartoon character than a teen heartthrob.

I'm going out of my mind. And filming starts tomorrow.

Maybe I'll end my career with a big bang…some hilarious Mariah-style mental breakdown at the Golden Globes. Or I could air those commercials I thought up years ago—with me pirouetting in a meadow with a voice-over crooning "Total Eclipse of the Heart".

Seriously. Going out of my mind could be a hell of a good time.

Mia's POV

"They're making a movie…about YOU?" asked Tina, a piece of lettuce hanging out of her mouth.

"Uh huh," I nodded. "About my life since I became a princess and all of that."

She made a disgusted face. "You don't think they'll talk about that time you ran into the door in P.E., do you?"

"I don't think so…"

"Or the time your desk tipped over in English and you were trapped underneath?"

"No…"

"What about when you dropped your earring down the toilet and reached your hand inside, got it stuck, and tried to flush it out, but only made it worse? And then Principal Gupta had to enlist the janitor's help in pulling you out---will that be in there?"

"Tina!" I cried, trying to put a stop to the horrible mental pictures. Come on, I already had to live through it once. "I think it's more about the princess thing, and well, the mess with Josh."

"Ooh, who's playing Josh?" she asked, taking a sip from her water bottle. "Leonardo DiCaprio?"

Uh, no. Considering the fact that he's way too old and looks all gross and bloated now. Maybe Titanic-era Leo, or even the Growing Pains days. Nowadays he just kind of pathetic-looking.

He could play future Josh. And then for Lana they could put Kathy Bates in a housedress and have her screaming at a litter of kids in the background.

My God, I can't wait.

- - -

Iwent over to the movie set today. Tina begged me to take her, but I'm so glad I didn't.

Because then I wouldn't have had a whole afternoon with Michael! TO MYSELF!

The movie lot was way cool, with people hurrying this way and that, and big racks of clothing and costumes being pushed around. I found Michael's trailer with the assistance of the security guard and knocked nervously.

"Who is it?" he barked.

"Um, it's Mia."

"Who?"

I sighed. "_Princess_…Amelia." God, I hate that name.

The door opened a moment later and I stepped in to see Michael sitting back down on the couch and picking up the video game controller.

Christ, they're _all _the same.

"Can I help you?" he asked, his voice bordering the line between cordialness and total annoyance.

"Well, Jacques told me to, uh, stop by any time. So I thought I'd come by and see what's up."

He just took a sip of his root beer and returned to staring at the screen.

"Whatcha playing?" I asked sweetly, coming to sit beside me.

"Halo," he said quickly. It was kinda cute how he'd throw his whole body into moving the control.

"Can I play?"

He stared at me. "You came down here to play video games with me?"

No, you idiot, I came down to ogle your tush. But I didn't dare say that aloud. "Well, I wanted to see a real movie set--"

"Then let's go," he said, taking a swig of his drink and standing.

He took me around, pointing various things out. I can't say I appreciated being treated like a four-year old. "That's a _ca-me-ra._"

It was a little weird seeing places like the loft and Mr. G's classroom in someone else's perspective. Like we so don't have one of the fireman's poles. I might be coming around here more often.

Michael bent down to tie his shoe and I glanced quickly at his backside and how perfectly accentuated it was in those jeans.

Yeah, I'll be back.


	4. Grunt

Chapter Four…

Mia's POV

This is so totally cool. I know I'm supposed to be in school right now, but I think being a part of a real movie is an excusable reason to skip a few classes. And besides, Michael needs me. I'm like, helping him out on how to be more Josh-like.

It's not as if I'm going to let it interfere with my school work. Not too much anyway.

Right now, Michael, as Josh, is doing the part where he gives Mia

advice in sports. Apparently, I'm so uncoordinated that I just stand there while people kick balls at me. Puh-lease. I may not be the most coordinated person, but I can at least block a few balls!

"Use more hand actions," I helpfully prompted Michael as he walked past

me to get his water bottle.

"What?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at me. I don't think he'd even realized I was there.

"Use more hand gestures or whatever. Flick your hair. And use facial expressions. Maybe throw a little grunt in there for fun."

"You want me to grunt?" Now he's raising both eyebrows at me.

"Yeah. Just put a little more personality into Josh. He may be an ass

for using me, but you're not playing him quite right. Trust me. Grunt."

He frowned at me, like I'm a waitress who served him soup with a fly in it. "I don't grunt," he said sternly, throwing his water bottle down onto the grass.

As he walked away, back towards the set, I saw Jacques look at me, then go over and have a word with Michael. Michael argued about something, looked back at me (though it wasn't a look of longing, I regretfully noticed), then swore and walked off.

I wonder what he said. Jacques I mean, I don't need to know the explicit language that Michael used. I prefer to think of his as an innocent without knowledge of foul language.

Michael's POV

She's here all the time! We've only been filming for about a week, but

she's been here everyday! I didn't think she was too happy about the film being made in the first place, so why is she always hanging around?

But the worst thing, worse than her just hanging around, is the fact that she thinks that she can give me, yes ME, advice on how to act. Ha!

Today we're outside on the soccer pitch, kicking a few balls at Mia's character, and then I go over and give her a little advice. Not exactly a hard scene. But Mia thinks that I'm not putting enough 'personality' into Josh. That I should, get this, grunt.

Even Jacques thinks I should grunt!

No, actually, he thinks I should do whatever the little princess tells me to do. But as I told him, there's no way I'm grunting.

I walked back to Sarah and just raised my eyebrows. She knows what I'm going through, and raised her eyebrows back. Her eyebrows are quite funny actually, they've made them all bushy and big for the movie, it's hilarious. She was doing a scene yesterday where she was talking to her grandmother, and all of a sudden one of them just fell off. I'd love to see one of Princess Mia's actual eyebrows fall off. Maybe that would make this whole experience with her worthwhile. Maybe.

Back to the scene, I guess.

After the PE teacher told Mia to 'block some balls!' she called me

(Josh) over to take Mia's place.

"So I was watching you earlier," I said to Sarah, who was standing

there like a deer caught in headlights. She's so funny. "And um…You're way tense; you know what I'm saying? You've gotta use your hands. The ball comes to you over here and you don't just do this, you've gotta go for it. You've

gotta think like the ball. You've gotta be the ball. You've gotta stop it. You know what I'm saying?"

Sarah continued to look at me with awe, and just like real life Mia, I turned away from her and called to everyone to 'Bring it on!"

"Cut!" Jacques yelled. "Michael, over here. Now!"

Hmm, do you think I'm in trouble? It's not like I purposely gave my character absolutely no character at all in that scene, just because

Princess Mia said to. No, I didn't do that at all.

"What?" I asked, with about as much enthusiasm as I'd just used for

Josh. "Did I mess up my lines? I thought I nailed them."

"Yes, you got them all right, but it's the way you said them. I thought

I told you to put some enthusiasm in it, some personality! And where was the grunt?"

"No, the princess told me to put some personality into it. I don't take orders from fourteen year old princesses, unlike some. I thought you were the boss around here? Taking orders from a fourteen year old now, are you?"

"Michael," Jacques said sternly. I've really got him rattled up now.

"There are things you don't understand about, okay? So when I tell you to listen to Princess Mia's suggestions, listen to them! And when I tell you to hang out with her, you hang out with her! Now I want to see some grunting!"

If he wants to see some grunting, I'll give him some grunting.

The next time we ran through the scene, I flicked my hair more than

Marcia Brady; I used more hand and facial gestures than is almost humanly possible.

And after my little speech to Mia, I let out such a grunt that it

rattled the microphone.

Sarah looked at me in amazement, she wasn't acting anymore. Then she

burst out laughing.

Everyone but Jacques started laughing then, including me. I doubled

over in pain because it's so bad.

After a minute, after Jacques yelled at everyone to settle down, I looked up to see that there's one other person not laughing.

Princess Mia.

She looks so upset, she's about to burst into tears. Eventually she walked off. Back to school, probably.

If I were a sensitive kind of guy, I'd feel so bad right now. But I don't. It's too funny to feel guilty about it.

The fluttering in my stomach must just be from laughing so much.

"Okay, okay!" I cried, raising my hands in a false surrender. "Let's do it one more time, I think I can get it right this time."

"Michael," Jacques hissed at me. "You'd better get it right this time."

I don't know if it's because of Jacques pathetic threat, or because I actually do feel a little bad about Princess Mia, but I ran the scene again, and I did it perfectly. I even flicked my hair a little.

And at the end, although it wasn't a grunt exactly, I made a little noise that seemed to satisfy Jacques, and get him off my back. For now anyway.


	5. Take a Midol

Mia's POV

What a JERK.

I mean, seriously. He always seemed so nice and adorable in interviews, but then again, he _is _an actor.

So maybe he is a bit of a hottie, and sure he can act the hell out of anybody out there, but that doesn't make him a good person.

All I did was offer my expertise on a role I happen to know a lot more about than he does, but nooooo! I 'm just a little speck to him. An insignificant little fan.

Grrr. It's not like I have no idea what it's like to be a celebrity. I was totally stopped on the way to Blockbuster yesterday by a girl only a couple of years my junior, who had me autograph the back of her t-shirt.

I am grounded and down-to-earth. I know how to handle my good fortune (though I hardly consider an uptight grandmother and tedious princess lessons to be a blessing). And I'm not cruel to perfectly nice, helpful people just because I CAN be.

Since I got home, I've totally trashed my Michael Wilson poster. He even looks pissyand mean in that. I used to think that was sexy, but seriously, dude, take a Midol.

Then I went online to spread the word.

**FtLouie**: WARNING—Michael Wilson is actually a menstruating woman.

**ILuvRomance**: ????

**FtLouie**: Ugh, Tina. I've never been more humiliated in my life. He made fun of me! In front of everyone!

**ILuvRomance**: Michael did? But why?

**FtLouie**: I guess that's how he gets off.

**ILuvRomance**: But he saved Jenna Davison from that fiery warehouse at the end of _The Scorch_!!!

**FtLouie**: Tina, that was a movie. He REALLY hates me.

**ILuvRomance**: How awful! But at least you have Kenny. He really likes you, you know.

Ah, yes, Kenny. My boyfriend of…what was it? Six painful weeks now?

Oh, God. I can't have these thoughts! First it was all the lusting after Michael (that's so over, though), and now I'm just in agony. He's totally supportive of everything I do and walks me to class and even does my homework sometimes (okay, most of the time)!

But I just can't seem to summon up any…amorous feelings towards him. Does this make me a bad person? Am I doomed to spinsterhood? I do like cats…

Alas, Grandmere would so never let me live alone with Fat Louie and his numerous descendants.

It looks like Prince Consort Kenneth Showalter will be my main squeeze for all, all time.

Seriously. Who else wants me?

Not Little Miss Wilson, that's for sure.

Michael's POV

"You imbecile!" cried Lilly, throwing her hands up in the air.

"Shut up," I mumbled, my eyes on the TV. "How was I supposed to know her daddy would get pissed? Seriously, I'm not paid to put up with this crap."

"No," said Beverly shortly, smoothing down her navy blue skirt. "But Jacques is. And Jacques pays you."

"I don't _care_ about the money," I said. "Lilly, could you grab me a soda?"

She complied, muttering mutinously. I should probably keep up my guard.

"Look," said Beverly, folding her hands as if in prayer. "The last thing you want to do is get in a tussle with the Genovian royal family. Just watch your mouth. Treat the princess like a _real person_."

"That is how I treat people when they're annoying the hell out of me."

"Okay," snapped Beverly, her jaw clenched. "Then _treat her like a princess_."

"You mean, bow and call her 'Your Highness'?"

"Michael, stop with the smart-ass comments already. Now you're going to go hang out around the city with the princess tomorrow afternoon. The press will get a few shots and everyone's happy."

I clacked my tongue against my teeth, glaring at the floor. I had no choice, but seriously. A whole afternoon of "Omigod!" and "Like, I love your hair!"

Sooner or later, I'm going to have to invest in some earplugs.

Mia's POV

I'm so glad the word's not out at school about this movie, because I hear enough about Michael as it is.

What's the big deal anyway? Sure, he's got long, smoky eyelashes over twinkling brown eyes. And maybe, just maybe, he's got the sexiest grin in all of Hollywood.

But that's not reason enough to be fully head-over-heels for him. I mean, it's ridiculous how far gone some of these girls are!

It's nice being over Michael Moscovitz. I feel pure, refreshed, and somewhat critical of the buzzing masses.

What do they know about him anyway? I've spent hours with this guy. He's so not what he's built up to be.

Though, I must admit, he _is _built.

I let Kenny hold my hand on the way to Algebra and managed not to gag. Kenny's sooo much nicer than _some _people.

After school, however, wasn't as pleasant as my "born-again sane girl" day. My dad called with "great news!" (in his opinion).

Dad: I heard about your trouble with that Woodson kid.

Me: Wilson, Dad. I don't wanna talk about it.

Dad: But Mia I've fixed everything! He's going to make it up to you.

Me: What…?

Dad: Tomorrow afternoon, Michael Wilson is going to hang out with you. One-on-one. But if he tries anything, I'll have Lars—

Me: DAD! I don't wanna hang out with HIM!

Dad: Mia, see here. I'm not going to send you out with an older boy without Lars' supervision.

Me: No, not Lars…

Dad: It's all settled then!

Me: Dad—

Dad: Oh, dear. Your grandmother's got a bellboy pinned beneath her stiletto. I've got to run.

AGH! I'm so dead.

Except, maybe this won't be so bad. I mean, I could totally return the favor of the cold shoulder and snide comments. Who knows? Maybe I'll even wear leather.

- - -

The reviews have been lovely so far. Keep 'em up!


	6. Glow in the Dark

Sorry about the Moscovitz thing! Schwartzibrow makes mistakes once in a blue moon, and that was one of those moments.Schwartzibrow's back on track now, and the 'date' will span over the next two chapters. Schwartzibrow is pleased with the reviews but hopes you will offer Schwartzibrow money, not constructive criticism. Schwartzibrow would love that so much more.

Michael's POV

A whole day with an annoying fan. Seriously, the things I do for my career. Is it really worth it? I know just how this afternoon is going to go: She'll hang off my every word, and probably my arm; she'll ask me about That Movie (no doubt a princess would have been able to track down a copy); and she'll just annoy the hell out of me, basically.

Looking. Forward. To. It.

Not.

I swear, after I'm finished with this movie, I'm moving on. I've had enough of playing the teenage heartthrob. Bring on the bad-ass. And I don't mean Josh Bryant, bad-ass. Please, he's nothing.

Mia's POV

Tina's over to 'help' me prepare for my afternoon with Michael Wilson.

But really, she's been more of a hinder than a help. She started off my knocking on my door at 8am. My 'play-date' with Michael (or whatever he's calling it) doesn't start till two, and she's here at 8. I don't need THAT much time to get ready. I mean, it's not as if I'm going to go out of my way to dress up or anything.

"But you have to dress up, Mia!" Tina cried when I explained my stance

on the situation. "How's it going to look when they put you guys on the front cover of Seventeen and you're wearing last years sweats? Or even this year's sweats!"

"I don't care, Tina. I'm not going to go to any trouble."

"Ah," she said, picking up her giant Maybelline make up kit. "But with

me here, it's no trouble at all."

"Tina," I said, eyeing the make up case as she edged towards me. "Don't. I'm telling you, I don't want it. I don't need it."

She won in the end of course. By noon I was caked in three layers of makeup, "For the cameras!" Tina insisted.

"But I look like a whore," I told her. "And although I'm sure Michael

Wilson goes for the whole hooker–look, it's not really something I'm aiming for."

"Mia, trust me. You'll be fine. Now, what's happening with me?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well," she sighed, sitting down on my bed as if she'd just run a marathon. "Are you going to do my make up, or am I doing it myself?"

"Oh, where are you going?"

"With you and Michael Wilson, silly! But don't worry, as soon as you give the signal, I'll be out of there in a second."

"Tina," I said slowly. "You're not coming."

"What? Why not?"

"Because this is just me and Miss Wilson. Seriously, I'd love nothing more than to have you tag along, but for the cameras, it's just gotta be me and Michael." Yeah right I'd love nothing more than for her to come. If she came she'd make it ten times worse!

"All right, fine. I'll just stay ten feet behind with Lars and the video camera."

Oh my.

Michael's POV

Lock and load. I'm waiting for the princess to come downstairs. I buzzed the intercom and told her I was waiting. Her mother called me up, but I refused. This isn't a date. I'm not playing the boyfriend, here to meet the parents.

Finally, after what seems like forever, she appears.

I burst out laughing, I just can't help it. "What---what have you done to your face?" She looks like the hooker who tried to crack onto my character in Sunset Streaming. She's gone waaaaay over board on the makeup.

"Um, my friend Tina seemed to think it was necessary for the cameras later. And I couldn't really say no."

If her face has gone red, no one can tell. Her face is covered in about six layers of foundation.

Somehow, I managed to turn my laughing-at-you smile into an I'm-so-glad-to-see-you-smile. Those acting lessons were worth every penny. "You ready to go?"

"I guess." She walked towards the exit of the building, not looking directly at me. She didn't even try to make a grab for my hand.

"Okay…Let's go then," I said.

Mia's POV

Awkward, much? I hate Tina for piling the amount of makeup on me that she did. It's a good thing we're going to the movies, where it'll be dark inside. Then again, what if the makeup glows in the dark? I'd look like a headless ghost. Oh so attractive. Not.

Michael asked for two tickets and handed over money. As soon as we got

the tickets I told him he didn't have to pay for me.

"It's okay," he said, faking a smile. "My treat."

"No, really, I'd rather you didn't. I mean, this isn't a date or anything. Please?"

I can totally tell when someone clenches their teeth; I do it myself around Grandmere enough times. So when Michael smiled at me then, I knew he was clenching his teeth.

Victorious, since I didn't want him paying my way, I reached into my pocket to find I didn't have any money. My purse was sitting on the couch at the Loft.

"Lars," I hissed between closed lips. "Can I borrow some money?"

Michael raised his eyebrows as Lars reached for his wallet. "Amelia, let's just forget about it okay?"

He walked towards the doors to our theatre and Lars shrugged at me. I shrugged back and followed Michael, who was ducking his head through the crowd so people wouldn't recognize him.

"Okay," I said, running up to him and walking beside him. "Thanks. But please, call me Mia."

"Oh, right. Like in the movie."

Damn that movie. If it wasn't for that movie I'd be sitting at home right now, studying for my Algebra test on Monday…Ah, who am I kidding, I'd be out with Tina or Kenny.

But one thing's for sure, I wouldn't be out on a nightmare play-date with Michael Wilson.

I just want this to be over with, so I can go home and wallow about the whole situation.


	7. The Enquirer Begs to Differ

For Kat, who gives so much love to the Schwartzibrow. Schwartzibrow almost appreciates this more than monetary compensation for Schwartzibrow's efforts.

Michael's POV

God, she had so much powder on, it was shining at me the whole time the movie played.

Not that I was looking at her or anything.

It would be easier to make fun of the princess (in my head) if she wasn't so not-a-whore. But this whole make-up thing just doesn't suit her. And she already told me it wasn't her idea. I don't know…I just don't hang around girls that often who suddenly don't want me.

Sure, I made fun of her and everything. I hurt her feelings pretty badly. But they usually bounce back! Not to sound arrogant, but I'm a wanted man. The ladies are pretty resilient when it comes to lusting after me.

She's not even looking at me! She's just staring resolutely at the screen, watching that retard Patrick Bell, instead of me. Seriously, I'm nice enough to take her to the movies and PAY for her ticket. But what does she do in return? Shower some other guy with her affection!

Patrick's just a pretty-boy with absolutely nothing between the ears. I've hung out with the guy before. Believe me, he's nothing special.

Too bad Amelia's the only one in the theater ignoring me. I could do with a little less intention from her friend, who is plainly gaping at me, not even trying to hide it. And the bodyguard has his beady little eyes trained on my every move, but come on, like I'm going to try anything. She's a stupid 14-year old.

Plus, I think she's beginning to return my annoyance. She's like Lilly, but much more attractive.

I mean, rabid. That's completely what I meant.

Lilly may be pudgy, but Mia's all bone. Neither of them have the best hairstyles. And while Lilly seems to stomp everywhere, Mia just trips.

Of course they don't like me! They're…well, mutant girls. Immune to the sexual drive.

I felt something brush my hand as I reached for the popcorn and glanced up quickly to see Mia stuffing a handful into her mouth, her cheeks red.

So maybe not so immune…

Mia's POV

The credits rolled and Michael stood, looking down at me. God, he's tall. "Ready?" he asked, no trace of a smile, real or fake, on his face now.

"Uh huh." I stood just as the clenched teeth reappeared. He walked with me down the aisle, ignoring the stares and whispers of fellow moviegoers watching our trek down the aisle.

"Did he hold your hand?" squealed Tina in her ear.

"Keep it down," I hissed. Michael was only a foot away! "And no, he did NOT hold my hand. Don't be ridiculous."

"He sure wasn't watching the movie," said Tina coyly.

Whatever. Did she not hear my tirade on Michael Wilson? He's a self-absorbed douchebag and that's about it. The only thing special about him is his ability to make the ladies swoon, and James Dean can do that for me any day.

As we were exiting the theater, Michael—completely out of nowhere—grabbed my hand. I could practically hear Tina dying of joy, even though she was a full ten feet behind us.

Who does he think he is, just holding my hand like that? I'm not one of his stupid lovesick fans who hyperventilate at the very sight of him.

I will admit that I'm a bit short of breath right now, but that's only because it's a long walk from the door to the theater to the street, where Michael's car was waiting.

Michael's hand is way nicer than his personality. Like, if he could transfer the nice way in which his warm hand was enclosed over my much smaller one, swinging just a little between us as his thumb brushed my knuckles…well, he'd have one hell of a boy.

"Sorry about that," said Michael, once we were safely inside his Mercedes. "The paparazzi were swarming at the end of the block."

Is that the angle he's going for? Like we're dating? Does that mean I have to go on more of these horrifying outings? And what about Kenny?

Sadly, that's the first time I've thought of him all day. But obviously, I've been preoccupied by not getting too annoyed with the idiot (Michael, that is).

"Right," I said. I was so glad that Tina and Lars were in a car behind us. They would make this all way more awkward than it already is. "Look, I'm sorry you got roped into hanging out with me, but I didn't plan this. You don't have to do me any favors."

Michael actually looked downright stunned for a second or two, but then he shook his head a little, giving me a strange expression. It wasn't fake, but it wasn't really nice or mean.

"I am sorry…for what I said, ya know. About the Josh deal. I get in trouble for my mouth a lot."

I figured out his expression…it was apologetic. Michael was sincerely sorry. And I know how he acts sorry…there's way more pout.

Michael's POV

It's kind of freaky, but I'm finding myself feeling sorry for Mia. I hardly ever feel anything for anyone!

But she seemed so surprised when I held her hand. And I'm acting in a movie of her life right now…it's not too peachy. Plus, she just went out in public looking like a circus clown.

"So you are just here because you feel bad for me?"

Basically, yeah. I just shrugged, though. "You've got it tough, I know. So I thought maybe I could stop being such a pain in the ass."

And maybe she'll return the favor.

I'm really not a bad guy, though. She should know this. I mean, she and her friend are totally going to blab about all this to YM or whatever.

I'm telling the truth, though. Not just to save my career either. My mom thinks I'm freaking adorable…though not in the same way most girls do, of course.

Mia's giggles interrupted my thoughts. "You don't even know me!"

"Yeah," I said slowly. "I've read all about—"

"Michael," she interrupted me, still laughing. "Some director and my grandmother's idea of me is far, far different from my real life." She broke off into giggles again, motioning toward her face. "My best friend doesn't even see that this is sooo not my thing."

I laughed too. Not _at _her, for once. "I get what you mean. I mean, people just think they know Michael Wilson." She raised an eyebrow at my use of the third person, which, I'll admit, sounded a bit stuffy.

"Of course they know you! You're all over every single magazine and on television and in movies."

"Hypocrite!" I cried, pointing at her triumphantly. "I just know Jacques's idea of you, Amelia, but YOU just know my agent's idea of Michael Wilson!"

"Stop doing that!" she said, laughing. "You're not a queen or anything."

"The Enquirer begs to differ," I countered. Geez. Since when was I having fun with the princess? "And I'm not Michael Wilson."

"Oh?" she said, eyeing me as if I was out of my mind. Which, seeing as how I was giggling like a school girl with…a school girl, I just might be.

"I'm Michael…Moscovitz." Damn, just rolls off the tongue.

"Well, I'm Mia Thermopolis," she said, grinning wickedly as she stuck out a hand in greeting. I shook it heartily. "Nice to meet you."

It _was _kinda nice.

We pulled up at the loft, and for a moment, I was a bit sorry I'd made sure this afternoon was brief. I also noted with a frown that the bodyguard and friend had stopped too.

"Wanna come up…for dinner, I mean?" said Mia, looking at me nervously. "It's just take-out. But I kinda wanna wash off all this make-up and maybe we could play Mario Kart…"

Who says no to Mario Kart? Seriously?

"I'd love to," I found myself saying, opening the door of the car.

I just hoped that Deena girl didn't plan on hanging out too. It's in my creed to only befriend one teenage girl per decade.

- - -

No one ever said reviewing was difficult. :)


	8. West Went Wally

Mia's POV

How did this happen?

This morning, I was totally resolute on the fact that Michael Wilson is an ass. But now, I'm sitting up in bed, having spent the entire afternoon and most of the evening with him, and I'm reconsidering it all.

Let's break this down. He was an ass when he made fun of me the other day when I was just trying to help him be more Josh-like, he's always rude and anxious to get rid of me, and…and…

And now he's a sweetie. He apologized (sincerely, I might add) about the Josh thing, and he hung out with me even when he didn't have to.

We ate Chinese take out, we played Mario Kart for hours, and we talked. Who knew that underneath those chiseled abs and rock hard pecs lay a heart that beat like anyone else's? I certainly never thought it. I just assumed that you checked your heart and your feelings at the security gate to the studio along with your other valuables.

But no, Michael Wilson, or should I say Moscovitz, is a real boy, just like Pinocchio. Well man, actually.

And I'm…infatuated with him again. No! How did this happen? HOW DID THIS HAPPEN???

Michael's POV

Who knew fourteen year old princesses were so much fun?

I've seriously been whistling a jaunty tune the whole way from her place to mine. I never whistle, and even if I do, it's the theme to James Bond or Mission Impossible or something.

Something's wrong. I can't be falling for this princess, can I?

No. It must have been something in the popcorn at the movies. Or maybe too much MSG in the Chinese food.

Whatever it was, it's not real. And I won't feel it in the morning once

I've slept it off. Which is what I'll do as soon as I get inside the door. I was going to call Jessica Winter to see if she was in town, but no, I need some Michael time. I need to sleep off whatever it is Mia has done to me.

Mia's POV

When I woke up this beautiful Monday morning, Michael Wilson was staring down at me. No, not him literally, but last night, before I fell asleep, I taped my poster back up. It's only a little bit ripped.

And he still looks smokin'.

It's hard to believe that those chocolate brown eyes had looked deeply into mine the other night, that those strong, masculine hands had caressed mine…Okay, maybe I'm exaggerating a little, but it's still hard to believe that the guy I played Nintendo with, and the sexy stud on this poster, are one in the same.

Though people at school sure seem to believe it.

"What's this, Mia?" Kenny came running up to me as soon as I stepped out of the limo.

"What?" I asked nonchalantly. Not even Kenny can ruin my mood.

"This!" he cried, thrusting a newspaper in my hands.

"When Mia Met Michael," the headline screamed at me. A picture of Michael smiling beatifically, holding my hand outside the movie theatre while I looked confused, was underneath it.

"I don't know, Kenny. What is it?"

He didn't answer me; he just let me finish reading he article.

Apparently, I'm being billed as Michael's next big love interest (Please. I wish). It says we met on the set of the movie of my life, and sparks flew. According to the article, he was dating Jessica Winter, but since I've come on the scene she's told him it's over. Which, the paper says, makes more room for me and our 'romantic trysts', like on Saturday.

Oh man, if only everything in newspapers was true.

I laughed out loud and threw the paper back into Kenny's arms. He was staring at me with wide eyes.

"Kenny," I said. "Don't believe everything you read in the papers."

Then I walked on past him. Hey, if he wants to believe something is actually going on with me and Michael, who am I to stop him. Maybe I'll get lucky and he'll break up with me over it.

Is that too cruel?

"Okay, Mia," Kenny said. He linked his arm through mine and walked alongside me, much to my dismay. "If you tell me nothing's going on, I'll believe you."

Damnit.

Michael's POV

"So how was your afternoon with the princess?" Lilly asked me as soon as I walked onto the set.

'None of your damn business,' I wanted to reply. But being in such a good mood (no, it still hasn't rubbed off yet. Maybe I haven't had enough sleep. I've been a little restless since) makes it impossible to be rude even to Lilly.

So I settled for, "It was all right," with a big, sheepish grin that I just couldn't hold back.

"What's that look for?" she asked skeptically. "Do you…you don't like her, do you?"

"The princess?" I tried my hardest to sound disgusted. "No way."

"Sure, whatever you say. But, you should see this." She shoved a newspaper in my hands.

A photo from when Mia and I left the cinemas and I grabbed her hand, adorned the page. She looks so confused by my action, it's somewhat cute.

In a totally rabid way, of course.

"What? I haven't even spoken to Jessica in weeks! And we weren't even really dating, anyway."

"Well, that's not what the paper says."

"Lilly, I learnt a long time ago not to believe everything papers say.

Remember when Teen Beat tried to convince people that I played the little girl in that 1993 movie, West Went Wally?"

Lilly raised her eyebrows as if she'd never doubted that story. Just like most people. Why believe what the actual person says when you can believe what some loser in an office can type up? I mean sure, it WAS me in that movie, but no one was ever supposed to link the current Michael Wilson to the little boy who played a girl. I used a totally different name too, Michelle Moscovitz, so I don't know how anyone figured it out.

Whatever.

Mia's POV

Kenny isn't the only one who noticed that article in the paper. The cat is out of the bag about the movie of my life. Everyone's been coming up to me asking if they're going to be in it. Why would the guy who hates when they put corn in his chili think he'd have a role in my movie?

"Well, Amelia," Lana's voice rang through my ears as soon as I walked into Algebra. "It seems you're completely out to get me, aren't you?"

"Excuse me?" What does anything have to do with her? She's so self-absorbed.

"First, you tried to steal my current boyfriend, and now you're trying to steal my future husband!" She practically spat at me.

"Lana, I never stole anything from you. Josh broke up with you, and you don't even know Michael Wilson."

"Not yet," she spat again. "But I have a plan. And you're stepping all over it!"

"Whatever, Lana," I said.

"Listen, Mia, I can make things very hard for you, if you don't play nice. So don't you think it would be in your best interest to introduce me to Michael? Maybe bring me along to the movie set as your friend."

"But we're not friends, Lana," I pointed out.

"What are you talking about?" she said, her voice was so sugary sweet if I were diabetic I would have needed a major insulin shot.

"Look, just introduce me, okay?"

Like hell I will.


	9. Googly Eyed

Greetings, fans of Schwartzibrow. I am the other half of Schwartzibrow, the half that doesn't usually update. I just wanted to say howdy, and tell you that I feel really bad for having written Flamin', cos it totally happened to me, and Mia shouldn't have gone through that. It sucks. Nonetheless, for those of you who actually liked Flamin' and didn't hate it for it being different (different is good!), you will be happy to know that a kick ass sequel is being written right now.

Schwartzibrow thanks you for your support and hopes you have a great day.

Mia's POV

I didn't go to the set that afternoon, since Mr. G had completely drowned us in inequalities and linear graphs.

When I walked on the next day, though, I saw Michael talking to Jacques. Neither looked too pleased.

I have to admit. My heart stopped just a tiny bit when he looked up at me and smiled. It's weird, though. I don't think "Michael Wilson!!!!!!" any more.

He's just…well, a guy. Don't get me wrong. Michael opening up didn't make me like him any less. I just like him for…different reasons.

"Hey," I said, smoothing down my skirt.

He stuffed his hands in his pockets. "Where were you yesterday?"

"Homework," I said grimacing. He doesn't understand the perils of algebra. Michael's done with high school. He's only seventeen, but he totally tested out of his senior year. Freaking genius.

"Oh, well, I've got some work to do. But we'll hang out later, okay?"

"Oh," I said, looking around. "Um, all right then."

Why were we so stiff and formal all of the sudden? I guess it was the whole 'back in the real world' thing, but it didn't make it any less annoying or awkward.

"You can just chill in my trailer if you want. Unless you want to come and watch or something."

I shook my head. They were doing the scene where Josh broke my heart, and I don't really care to live through that again.

"We can play Mario Kart when I'm done," he said, smiling again.

I nodded, feeling the least bit dizzy. "All right," I choked out.

Michael's POV

How do you act when you can't ACT in front of a girl?

It was easier just pretending to be nice to Mia, even if she did get on my nerves. But now that I actually do want to hang out with her and watch movies and hold her hand…scratch that last bit.

Anyway, my point is—I really don't have that much real experience with girls. At least none as Michael Moscovitz. The last time I was Michael Moscovitz, I was twelve years old and twenty pounds overweight. That guy didn't have any problems with the ladies—because there were no ladies for him to have problems with.

Not that Mia is the romantic interest sort. Just…I'm more used to either pretending to be nice or just being plain hateful.

I've got more problems than just Mia at the moment. After I sent her off to my trailer (where I'm sure she'll enjoy my huge collection of snacks and Seinfeld DVDs), I went over to the little beach they'd built right on the set. We'd actually go out to a beach for some of the scenes, but right now, we were filming this scene where Josh (me) tries to come on to Mia (Sarah) in this little shed.

I swear to God, if I ever met this little jerk, I would have a word or two with him. Even I wouldn't pull this stunt.

Seriously, it's complete déjà vu. I was reading over the scene again and realized it's practically my life…with breasts.

The normal guy invites the new celebrity out on a date and then kisses and embarrasses said celebrity just for media attention.

9th grade. I had my first sitcom and the teen magazines were swarming all over me. And suddenly, _out of the blue_, Katie Welsh wanted to go get a burger with me. Granted, I've been on a diet since I hit puberty, so I don't eat burgers—but I was still pretty damn excited.

Until she went and stuck her tongue down my throat—scaring the bejeezus out of me—right outside of the deli.

That's when I kind of stopped paying attention to all the attention girls were paying me. Not that I don't find girls attractive—I just don't like to bother with them too much if all they want is a date with THE Michael Wilson.

The cameras started rolling, and I found myself taking some of Mia's Josh advice. Hamming it up. Being the charming, goofy ass. The one you can't hate because he's such an idiot.

But I hate this guy. More than I usually hate my characters. I looked at Sarah, who was bumbling around adorably and choking out all her lines—like she was supposed to.

"Cut!" yelled Jacques. I looked over at him. Everything had been going perfectly! "Michael," he said sternly. "Stop looking so lovesick. The character's self-absorbed! Play it arrogant."

Sarah cut her eyes at me. I was playing lovesick? "Sorry," I muttered. "I didn't mean to."

She raised her eyebrows. "Action!" yelled Jacques.

---

Finally…FINALLY…we got through it. It took me ages to get out of what Jacques called my "googly-eyed" phase.

"Look, Michael," he said, taking me aside after one take. "You're letting personal feelings get in the way. Now snap out of it!"

Personal feelings? For Sarah?

After we finished filming, she met up with me as I was pouring myself some orange juice. "What was with you today?"

I shrugged. "Jacques said…to not let my personal feelings get in the way." I avoided her eyes. Obviously, I had deeper feelings for her than I thought. I waited for her reaction anxiously.

She burst into laughter—not exactly what I expected. "You're in love with the princess!"

"What?!" I cried, dropping my cool façade. "You're crazy."

"Michael," she said, putting her hands on my shoulders. She was still giggling, which didn't exactly make me feel any better. "You have never looked at me like that, except when I was tripping all over the place or rambling or whatever. In other words, when I'm acting like Amelia."

"Mia," I corrected automatically. "And that's just stupid. I—I was acting too."

"Liar," she said, poking me in the shoulder. "Don't worry, I think it's cute. Widdle Mikey has a crush."

"Shut up!" I said, really getting pissed now. "Just leave me alone, all right? And don't spout off your crackhead theories to anyone else!"

And I stormed off to my trailer.

Mia's POV

He's gonna kill me.

So I was just sitting in here, minding my own business and watching West Went Wally with Lilly, who seemed to think that I should get to know all sides of Michael. But seriously, what does some cheesy kids' Western movie with a scarily strong-jawed little girl have to do with _Michael_?

"Princess," said one of the techs, poking her head in the door. "Your best friend's here to see you."

Tina? Christ. Not that I don't like her or anything, but she'd totally freak out over just being in Michael Wilson's trailer.

But her familiar black braid wasn't what I saw next. Oh, no. Instead, a shiny blond head bounced in, grinning malevolently.

Since when is LANA WEINBERGER my best friend?????


	10. Stilettos and Peppermints

Mia's POV

I'm going to kill her. Seriously, I am going to kill her.

Oh, she is so dead when I get my hands on her.

"What…what are you doing here, Lana?" I managed to cough out, somehow keeping my temper in check since Lilly's still in the room with me.

"I came to see you, of course! Didn't I tell you at lunch time? Silly me."

I stood up, Lilly did too. "Who's this?" she asked. "I thought your best friend was a brunette?"

Lana beat me to answering. "Who, Tina? No, she's just a girl who hangs off Mia's every word. I'm her real best friend. I'm Lana. It's so nice to meet you." She flashed her million dollar smile at her and extended her perfectly manicured hand.

"Uh, actually…" I started.

"Lana?" Lilly said, shaking her hand. "Why does that name sound familiar?"

"Because she's in my movie!" I cried, hoping Lilly would now see through Lana's charade.

"Oh, right, I remember now…" Lilly looked puzzled for a minute.

"Oh, I guess I play Mia's best friend in the movie. Since, you know, we're best friends in real life and all. Isn't that right, Mia?" She dug her stiletto heel into my Converse. I swear she almost put a hole through it.

"Ow!" I cried, clutching my foot just as soon as Lana removed hers.

"Well, actually," Lilly said, ignoring my pain. "I haven't read the script yet. I just have to make sure Michael has everything he needs. I don't like to bother reading little things like scripts. I'll just see the movie when it's done."

Oh, my God. She has no idea Lana is my evil arch nemesis. The Kryptonite to my Superman. It's like she's Count Olaf and no one will believe it!

"Speaking of Michael," Lana said, as if we speak of Michael all the time. "Where is he? This is he trailer, right? This is his bed?"

She sat her scrawny butt down on Michael's bed and started patting the spread gently.

"Yeah," I said sourly, disgusted at her display of stalkerism. Even I wasn't that bad when I first met him…Or maybe I just didn't think to touch the bed. Why didn't I think to touch the bed!?! "But Michael's not here now, so you'll have to go. Maybe you can meet him next time I invite you."

Except that I won't invite her. I'll even give her photo (the yucky one in the yearbook where she has lipstick on her teeth and what looks like a bald patch, from too much hair dye) to the security guards at the entrance and have her banned from the premises!

"Where is he?" Lana said urgently as I ushered her out the door.

"None of your business," I muttered. "Just get out of here."

She didn't hear the last bit though, because she screamed in my ear so loud I think she may have deafened me. Then she ran towards someone walking up the street.

Michael's POV

Sarah's not right. She can't be. I mean, it's totally absurd. How could I be in love with Mia? I like hanging out with her, I think she's a cool person (now that she's stopped acting like a fan and has started acting like a real person) and…and…

Oh, I just don't know. Maybe I need to find myself someone else. To take my mind off Mia. Not Jessica Winter though, because she hasn't returned any of my calls in the last few days.

But maybe someone like…

"Omigod! You're Michael Wilson!"

My thoughts were distracted by Barbie, who practically dove into my arms.

"Er, hi. Nice to meet you," I said. I'm really trying to make an effort with my fans since of the whole Princess in the foyer incident. Who knows, this girl could be the daughter of someone important. "But sorry, I've got to get back to my trailer."

"Oh, that's okay," Barbie said, pushing a lock of hair behind her ear, trying with all her might to control herself. I've seen it before. They freak out, then try to act all cool about it. "I'm going that way any way.

I'm here to see my best friend, Mia. It's just a bonus to run into someone like you!"

She's best friends with Mia? What happened to Deena? Or was it Tina?

Hanging onto my arm, like I'm her date to the Prom or something, we walked up to my trailer. Sure enough, Mia was standing outside it.

"Hey," I said to her, as casually as I could muster. She looks like she's about to burst.

"Look who I just happened to run into, Mia?" Barbie pointed emphatically at me and I raised my eyebrows at Mia. "And you said he wasn't here!"

"Well, obviously I'm here," I attempted to chuckle. "So, um, are you going to introduce me?" I asked Mia.

Barbie beat her to it, shooting at Mia what looked like anything other that the look one would give their best friend. It was more like a death glare.

"I'm Lana. Amelia and I are just the best of friends. We go shopping together, we get our hair done together. We even finish each others sentences. It's very cool."

I pulled my arm away from hers and stood opposite her next to Mia. "You're Lana?"

"Uh huh," she nodded and smiled as if I'd said it in a good way.

"And you're best friends with Mia here?"

"Yep. We've been best friends for what seems like forever."

"Oh, okay. So then you'd know what flavor ice cream Mia likes best, wouldn't you? I mean, as her best friend and all."

"Uh, sure," she stammered. "Chocolate?"

I grabbed Mia's hand and turned around to the door of my trailer. "Wrong," I called over my shoulder. "It's Peppermint. And any friend of Mia's would know never to call her Amelia. Security will be escorting you off the property in, oh, say two and a half minutes."

"But…but…" She was still sputtering when I closed the door behind us, leaving her outside.


	11. Hopelessly in Like

Anticipate some strides in the Michael/Mia relationship in the upcoming chapters. Oh, and when Schwartzibrow updates the story out of the kindness of Schwartzibrow's heart, Schwartzibrow expects lovely words of encouragement and unadulterated glee over Schwartzibrow's diligent efforts.

Mia's POV

My hero!

He totally just shut Lana down. I know this is mean, because her dreams were just crushed and all of that, but…

HA!

Michael was still holding my hand, looking down on me with a strange expression. "So Lana's really like that in real life?"

"Oh, yeah. The movie people got the characterization of everyone down pat. Except Kenny, he's so not that cool."

Michael dropped my hand and walked over to the mini-fridge. "Want something to drink? I don't have any more scenes today."

"Oh! Okay, then. I'll have a Sprite."

He tossed me a can and grabbed a Coke for himself. "Let's watch a movie or something. Unless you have to go…"

There is that Algebra homework. And the project to finish for World Civ…

"Sure! Your choice."

"Of course it is," he said, grinning. "Let's go with…Home Alone. 'Tis the season, after all."

If "the season" is a month before Christmas, then rock on.

He put the movie into his DVD player and turned to face me. "I've got an idea."

"Oh, yeah?"

Michael walked closer, raising his arms. "I have a feeling you're not ticklish."

"Um…" I still wasn't catching on.

That is, until he started tickling me, wrestling me onto the couch. Then it was kind of hard not to get the idea. "Michael, stop!" I gasped, giggling helplessly. "Stop!"

Finally, he relented, grinning down at me. "I do believe you're a wee bit sensitive to my powers."

Tell me about it.

Michael's POV

I'm a complete dork.

But I just kind of couldn't help myself. She was standing there looking so cute and sweet and…

NO. No no no no no!

I don't think she's cute. She's mildly sweet.

I'm Michael Wilson and I've got girls lining up to be with me. I'm a master at my craft and smooth with the ladies. I…

Aw, screw it. I'm Michael Moscovitz and I'm hopelessly in…

Like. Yeah, I like Mia. And I just want to kiss her sometimes. It's a schoolgirl crush.

Except without the pigtails or plaid skirts. Because I'm a man. And I have big-man-dude crushes that I will get over with absolutely no problem at all.

Plus, she has a boyfriend. So it doesn't even matter.

I didn't think Kenny actually existed. I just thought they had made him up to make Mia look better, but I was way wrong. The little schmuck is out there, just grinning his head off because he's got an adorable princess as his girlfriend.

Adorable in a completely irritating way.

I popped some popcorn and went to sit on the couch with her as the movie started. But as I was walking to the couch, my hand—as if independent from my body—flipped off the light switch, throwing us into almost complete darkness, save the light from the TV screen.

"There," I said, breathing rather heavily. "No glare."

She smiled as I sat down beside her and grabbed a blanket off the back of the couch, draping it over both of us. "I love this movie."

"Oh, me too." I relaxed, even scooting a little closer to her. "So…Kenny's your boyfriend?"

She rolled her eyes. "Yes. Believe me, it's not like in the movie. I was guilt-tripped into going out with him because he does my biology homework."

"Can't you do your own homework?" And not go out with some nerd?

"Not really," she said, smiling sheepishly. "The thing is, I'm actually kind of terrible at everything but English."

"You're not an idiot!" I did all my high school courses with a tutor, and they were extremely easy. So simple that I finished up in three years. I'll do college eventually. Probably soon, so I'll have an excuse to get away from these crap films.

"Sure seems like it."

My hand found hers underneath the blanket and gave it a quick squeeze. "Well, that's not what I think."

I quickly turned my eyes back to the television, but it was unbelievably hard to concentrate on the shenanigans of Kevin McCallister.

"What if you had someone to tutor you? Like, a friend? Would you break up with Kenny then?"

It's not necessarily that I want to be with her, I just don't want anyone else to.

Mia seemed intrigued by the idea. "Well…who?"

"Me. I mean, when I'm not working. Plus, I have a break coming up and I can help you then."

"You wanna help me? But I haven't done anything for you! I could pay you, if you want."

"I don't feel right about you dating someone you don't even like," I said kindly. "Just dump him and I'll be cool."

I could she was confused. "Okay, then. But Michael, why do you care so much about Kenny?"

Before I had to invent an answer, the door to my trailer opened and Lilly poked her head in.

"Michael?" she said, sounding most amused. "Why are you watching a movie with Princess Mia in the dark?"

At least no one could see my bright red face. "No reason. I mean, we were—"

"I should get going," said Mia, sitting up and looking around for her bag. "I've got piles of homework to do."

"Call me if you need any help!" I said. She smiled and walked out the door quickly, pulling on her coat.

"_Call me if you need any help_!" said Lilly in a flippant voice that was in no way similar to my own. "Geez. Whipped much?"

"Don't be stupid," I said gruffly, fiddling with the fringe on the blanket. "We're friends. Friends help each other out."

"Friends also snuggle in the dark," said Lilly, raising her eyebrows.

"We weren't snuggling!" I cried indignantly. "What do you want, anyhow?"

"Beverly wants to see you."

"I've been nice to Mia!" I moaned. Too nice, some might say. But I seriously hate these meetings with Beverly. Talk about painful.

Lilly just laughed. "I _know_. But Beverly's just heard from Hilary Duff. She wants to do a movie with you."

Oh, crap. I thought quickly, then sneezed. "Sorry," I managed to say before I sneezed again.

Lilly watched patiently as I sneezed a record six times in a row, and then handed me a tissue from the pack in her pocket. "I'll just tell Beverly you're not feeling well, then?" she said, a slight smile on her lips.

"Would you?"

The trailer door closed and I stretched out on the couch and closed my eyes, anticipating a short nap. It was probably sleep-deprivation that was making me so weird lately. So I'd just catch a few winks and be perfectly back to normal again.

Before I could be sucked into the sweet world of slumber, though, my cell phone rang.


	12. Pampered

Poor widdle Michael suffers an illness and a friend comes to the rescue. Thanks for reading and all of that!

Michael's POV

It's not easy being me sometimes, you know. I'm constantly being hassled and I never have any privacy, so can you really blame me for turning my cell phone off without answering it?

All I needed was a few hours sleep. Some R&R. And now that I've woken, I feel so much more refreshed. I'm ready to take on whatever they throw at me…

Wait a second, I don't feel refreshed at all. Actually, I feel worse than before I had my nap. My head feels heavy and I think a migraine is coming on.

I can't get sick now! I'm Michael Wilson, I don't get sick.

I have a reputation for never taking time off for being sick. I have a scene to shoot and feel like crap, I pop a few aspirins and I'm ready to go.

Maybe that's all I need. Some pain killers, to ward off whatever illness is coming my way.

I slowly got off the bed and walked to the first aid box above the microwave. It hurts to move. It hurts to breathe.

Maybe I'd better call Beverly…If I can reach the phone that is.

Mia's POV

Michael said to call him if I needed help with my Bio work, so I tried, but he's turned his phone off. He must have changed his mind about helping me and didn't want to have to answer my calls. After all, he's Michael Wilson. Why would Michael Wilson tutor anyone, let alone me?

Was I completely crazy to think, even for a second, that Michael had offered to help me because he genuinely likes me?

It's not as if I thought he was falling in love with me or anything! But yes, I'll admit, I stupidly entertained thoughts that maybe there was more to just him hanging out with me because he's made to by Jacques. After all, he didn't have to offer to watch a movie with me, and he didn't have to shoot Lana down like that. I just thought…I just thought we were friends.

Michael's POV

Beverly called for a doctor the second she got a look at me. He says it's just a 24 hour bug, that I'll be right as rain by tomorrow afternoon, but right now, I feel like I'm on my death bed.

I'm in agony! My head is thumping, I can't keep any food down, I can't even swallow water without bringing it back up. How this can just 'go away' in 24 hours I don't know.

I'm thinking of bring the doc back and telling him to run some more tests. I've played dying characters before, I know about this kind of stuff.

Then again, I guess he's supposed to know more, being a doctor and all.

I reached blindly (I've covered my face with a damp cloth) for my cell phone and turned it on.

Four missed calls; a few more than normal. Only one voicemail.

"Hi, love," my mother's voice rang down the phone. "Why did you reject my call? Are you busy? I was just calling to say hi. Well, hi. That's all. Will's all excited for your Christmas visit. You're not going to cancel like last year, are you? Tell that Dulles guy that some things are more important than camera angles. We never see you anymore! Well, take care, honey. Love you."

I never ever get to see my parents any more. The last time I was back in Connecticut was for about two days over the summer, and before that I was there for my little brother's birth.

I guess I'm more tolerant of the parentals than most other teenage guys are. I mean, you wouldn't see this Josh guy making cookies with his mom or trying valiantly to learn the guitar from his dad.

I wonder who the other calls were from. It's just listed as private number. Oh well, if it's important they'll call back.

Mia's POV

Instead of letting Lars take me to school like usual this morning, I made him bring me to the studio to see Michael. He was totally against the idea, since I'm supposed to be in school or whatever, but I promised to put in a good word with Mademoiselle Klein (little does he know she's already seeing the PE teacher).

I was thinking about Michael all night, and I just need to talk to him.

Of course, now that I'm standing outside his trailer, I have no idea what I'm going to say to him. I had it all planned out last night, and now that I can only remember fragments.

Maybe when I see his face it'll all come back to me. I knocked and held my breath.

"Come in," a pained cry came after a minute.

Slowly, I opened the door to a dark room. The curtains are drawn and there's a funky smell.

"Michael?"

"Mia? What are you doing here?"

"Um, I came to talk to you. Is this a bad time?"

"Sort of. I'm sick. I couldn't even make it to my apartment last night,

I had to stay here."

"What's wrong?"

My whole speech that I worked on last night is now completely gone. I walked further into the room and closed the door. Then I lifted the curtain and gasped at the sight of The Michael Wilson, lying on his bed, looking disheveled and…well, dirty. Not at all like his usual self.

"Michael, what is it?" I asked kindly.

"It's a bug. The doctor says it's just a bug, but it feels like so much more."

He looks like he's on the verge of crying. How can I go to school and leave him like this? He needs me.

I told Michael I'd be back in a minute and stuck my head out the door to tell Lars I wouldn't be going to school today.

"But, Princess, you're parents wouldn't agree to this, and you know it."

"Lars, I'm needed here. Please, they don't have to know. Just let me stay with him. He's really sick."

Lars scowled and conceded. He really doesn't have much choice in the matter since indirectly, he works for me.

When I walked back into Michael's room he was sprawled out on the bed and moaning.

"It's not that bad, is it?" I asked, a little taken aback by his demeanor. Hasn't he ever been sick before?

"It's worse,' he sobbed. "My head feels like it's going to split in two. Beverly came to see me before and told me to take the day off, but that was it. She didn't arrange for anyone to come look after me or anything, I think I need a nurse or something."

"Relax, Michael," I told him, sitting beside him on the bed. "I'm going to be your nurse today. I'll get you anything you need and I'll stay with you all day, if you need me to."

He pulled the cloth from his face and looked up at me. "You will? But what about school?"

"Taken care of. Now, what do you want for breakfast?"

He managed a smile and it made it all worth it. Even looking sick as a dog, he's still hotter than any guy I've ever met.

- - -

The event you've all been waiting for (all two of you) shall happen soon. Be prepared!

Speaking of that, I totally threw all my Beanie Babies on the ground the other day and stood up on my window seat, waving my arms around as 'Be Prepared' blasted out of the speakers of my computer. Quite the moment.


	13. Sweet Cheeks and Hot Pants

To the person who thought Mia was letting Michael walk over her and acting like a loser, Mia comes into her own. She's star-struck right now, but I think she's also starting to see Michael as a real person rather than his movie-star persona.

Michael's POV

Thermopolis is such a good, kind nurse.

I can't remember her first name right now. There's an 'a'. Maybe. Is it Mischa? Or Lisa?

"Elmyra," I said, my voice raspy. "You're really good at this. I don't really feel all that awful."

"It's Mia," she laughed. Right, I knew that. Mia's so pretty. She's my guardian angel and I just want to kiss her, because that would probably make me feel a lot better.

She brought me water instead. Fair enough.

I sipped my drink, watching her fiddle with the Thermostat. "Fiona?" I called, sitting up suddenly.

Oh, God. Oh, God.

"What's wrong?" she asked. But I didn't answer. I just rushed past her on my way to the bathroom.

Thermopolis came and sat beside me as I retched, rubbing my back when I was done.

I didn't feel much like taking another step, so I curled up on the floor. The tile felt really nice and cool against my burning forehead.

"Michael, get up. Let's get you back to the couch," said the pretty girl whom I love so very much. She put her arms around my waist and tried to pull me up, but to no avail.

"I lift lots of weights. I do that so girls will squeal at me. But I hate them a lot. I like you, Rita."

I lifted my hand up and stroked the side of her face. "Why do you have to have a boyfriend? I don't like Kenny."

"Me either," she said, her lips parting into a smile. I tried to lift my head up to meet hers, but it wasn't happening.

"You're so beautiful, Sweet Cheeks. Can I call you that? I like that name."

She put a hand to my forehead and shook her head, her shiny hair swishing from side to side. "You can call me whatever you want. Only if I can call you…Hot Pants." She giggled after this, but I didn't get it. My pants did feel kinda hot.

"Okay. Sweet Cheeks, help me back to my bed. I don't like the floor much. Not like I like you."

"You'll have to meet me halfway," she said, groaning as she started to lift me again. With our powers combined, I finally managed to stumble over to my nice, comfy bed.

My eyelids were drooping when the whole room gave a sudden jerk. I cried out and gripped the edge of the bed tightly.

"What's wrong?" asked Nita, looking alarmed. But she hadn't moved an inch.

I pulled her onto the bed with me. "Don't leave me," I stage-whispered. "Not till everything stops moving."

"Alright," she said shakily, feeling my forehead again. "God, you're burning up. No wonder you're being so weird. We need to break your fever."

She stood and walked to the other side of the trailer. I tilted my head, enjoying the view. There are some things all guys appreciate—no matter their state of physical well-being. Or mental, for that matter.

Mia's POV

Michael's so ODD when he's sick. I wonder if this is how I am when I get delirious. He can't even get my name right!

I dampened a washcloth and brought it over to him, dabbing his forehead gently. He hummed happily squirming around under the sheets. "Keep doing that."

I did, until he drifted off, shivering just a little. So I pulled the comforter up around him and smoothed down his hair. Then I went and got a Tupperware container from the little kitchen and put it down on the floor by his bed in case he needed to blow chunks some more.

I looked around for something to do. Watching Michael sleep was only cute for ten minutes or so, then it just got creepy.

In a fit of madness, I grabbed my backpack, intending to go over my Algebra from the night before. Instead, I found a copy of Extraterrestrials in the Outback that I'd stuck in there back when I was mad at Michael. I was going to have him sign it to piss him off.

I'd never actually seen it, though. Michael looked so young and adorable on the cover, holding a lantern and peering around the corner of a building, where some sort of demon kangaroo waited.

I glanced over at Michael, who was dozing peacefully. After a few seconds, I made up my mind, pulling the curtain around him and hurrying to the television.

This should be…interesting, at least.

- - -

Well.

A bowl of popcorn, a cheesy family sci-fi movie, and a snoring Michael Wilson can really mess a girl up.

Somewhere in the middle of the movie—I do believe it was when a dungaree-clad Michael confronted the satanic koalas—I decided that Michael was right. Kenny was completely wrong for me, and dating a guy for a good Biology grade was completely unethical.

Michael's so sweet. Not many guys have my best interests at heart.

Anyway, before I could lose my nerve, I grabbed my cell phone and dialed Kenny's number. I knew he would have it off during school hours, so there was no chance for confrontation.

"Hi, Mia, it's Kenny. I mean…Hi, Kenny. This is Mia. Thermopolis. Um, I wasn't feeling well today so I didn't come in and anyway, that's not what I'm calling about. I'm calling to tell you that I like you and appreciate you as a person and all of that, but maybe we just aren't…compatible. Tauruses and…"

Hmmm, that's odd. I swear I know Kenny's birthday! It's one of those months that ends with "Y". Or maybe "R". Or is it April?

"Tauruses aren't very relationship-oriented at all. Not romantic people in the least. So you kind of got stuck with a terrible girlfriend. It's okay, though. Because we're better friends. I'm more of a platonic person, in general. So…it's been nice. Thanks."

And I hung up.

Did I really just THANK him? Who does that?!

"Whatcha doin'?" said a voice in my ear.

And there was Michael, looking much more lucid. His eyes were focused on the TV screen, though, with a mixture of annoyance and something I couldn't identify.

Crap.


	14. A Little Improv

Mia's POV 

Uh oh. He so wasn't supposed to catch me watching this. Last time I looked, he was out like a light. My voice on the phone must have woken him. I hope he didn't hear what I was saying. Oh God, I don't even remember what I said to Kenny.

I vaguely remember thanking him…I think.

In one swift motion I lunged for the remote on the floor and turned the TV off.

"Hi," I said, a little breathlessly from the lunging. I'm still on the floor too.

"Were you just watching…" His eyes are glazed over, and I don't think it's from his fever.

"Um, maybe?"

"I haven't seen that movie in so long. It was made a long time ago, how'd you get a copy?"

"eBay," I said meekly. How come he's not more pissed about this? From all the interviews I've read of his, he hates even the merest mention of this movie. "Sorry. I'll burn it if you want."

He frowned at me. "Why would I want that? I mean, sure, it's not the finest movie I've ever made, but look how cute I was back then!" He picked up the video box and held it next to his face, imitating the same facial expression.

I laughed and sat up. He crawled off the couch to sit in front of me on the floor.

"So," I said with a deep breath, suddenly realising just how close he is to me. "You're feeling better?"

"I am," he said. "Suddenly I woke up feeling refreshed. It's like something happened while I was sleeping to make me better."

"Well, something did happen while you were sleeping. I…I broke up with Kenny."

Am I going blind from the dim light in the room or did he just smile? It must have been the light. Or my eyes.

"You did, huh?" His voice is normal, not higher or happier than it would be if he was smiling. Then again, he is one of our generations' best actors. "Good for you. I'm really happy for you."

"Thanks. Me too. It's just a relief. I don't have to pretend anymore."

"Yeah, pretending to like someone when you really don't is hard. It's the same way when you like someone, but can't tell them."

Is he talking about me? He's pretending to like me, but he really doesn't?

"So," I said, fumbling for something to say, something to pass the silence. "Do you wanna watch it then?"

"Are you kidding? No way. I may not want to burn it, but I don't want to burn my eyes either!"

"Okay…do you want to go back to sleep? Or do you want to do something?"

For a second he looked longingly at the bed. Then he looked back at me. "Nah. I'm all sleeped out."

"Do you want to run through some lines?"

"I have the day off 'cause I'm on my death bed, and you want me to run lines?"

"You're not still feeling like you're on your death bed, are you? We can do something else if you want…"

"No, we'll do it. I have just the scene. We're shooting it next week, so I should practice it." He stood up and grabbed a copy of the script, then he handed it to me.

"You don't need a copy for yourself?" I asked, sitting up on the couch beside him.

"Nah. Photographic memory. I have the whole thing down pat. Now, in this scene, you're going to play your bestest buddy Lana, and I'm going to be Josh."

"Okay, let's go."

How cool is this? Running lines for a movie with Michael Wilson! I'm Michael Wilson's rehearsing buddy!

"You're line's first, Sweet Cheeks."

I blushed. I was sure he wouldn't remember anything from his delirious state! "All right, Hot Pants." I blushed again, and he smiled. Then I buried my head in the script. How am I supposed to concentrate on reading this when he's distracting me like that?

"'Josh, what time do you want to pick me up for the Beach Party?'" I asked, in my best Lana-voice. Tina always says I do really good Grandmere and Lana impersonations. I think it has something to do with hating the person.

"'I dunno, babe, I'm thinking maybe we break up instead.'"

"'What? Break up? But why Josh? You can't break up with me!'"

Playing Lana is so much fun.

"'Lana, there's someone else,'" Michael scooted a little closer to me on the couch, but I was too busy trying to see where he was up to reading to take much notice. I can't see that line on the page. I turned the page over.

"'She's wonderful,'" he continued. "'She's kind, caring and really beautiful in her own way. And I don't want to be with you anymore. I want to be with her.'"

"Michael," I whispered. "Where are you up to? I don't see this here. You're supposed to tell Lana that…"

I didn't get to finish explaining what he was supposed to be saying, because a pair of lips clamped down on my own.

Oh my, God! If Josh is breaking up with Lana, why is he kissing her? And why can't I find this on the script?

"Michael!" I said when he finally released me. "What are you doing? You're not sticking to the script!"

Wait, why am I complaining that Michael Wilson just kissed me? I should be all, "I know the script doesn't call for a naked tribal rain dance, but lets pretend it does and do it any way."

"I'm improvising," he said with a shrug. "Don't you like improv?" He moved in to kiss me again, and I pulled back.

"Michael, you're still sick. We probably shouldn't be swapping body fluids."

'We probably shouldn't be swapping body fluids.' Seriously, what is WRONG with me? Why must the common sense part of my brain always take over at the wrong times? Why can't it take over when Tina cooks up some hair brained scheme for us on her cable show? Apparently my common sense part of my brain thinks it's okay to put make up on Fat Louie.

He sat back on the couch. "You're right. I'm sorry. You know, come to think about it, I'm still feeling a little under the weather, maybe I should have another nap."

Without another word, he stood up and collapsed onto his bed, leaving me speechless on the couch.

-

Have no fear, my children. Have no fear. Oh, and review.


	15. Liss is a Whore, I Mean, Horse

Michael's POV

How long have I been doing these lame-ass movies? Years!

But when I make a move on a girl I ACTUALLY LIKE she goes and freaks out on me!

What happened to her idolizing me? This may come off as arrogant, but all girls have a thing for me! Don't ask why—Lilly says it's my dazzling wit and inherent need to please.

I get the feeling she was being sarcastic.

Don't think I caught a wink of sleep after that incident with Mia. I just turned to the wall, laying there as Mia did her homework.

After a while, I felt a slender hand on my shoulder. God, I still want her. I know it's not even the fever talking. That kiss cemented it—I'm warm for her form.

"Michael?" she said carefully.

"Mmm?" Keep it cool. You're the movie star. She's younger. She's not as quick. She can't act.

But damn, she can kiss.

Ha! Lilly was wrong. I do have a brain—and it HATES ME.

"Um, I need to go. I've got princess lessons, which suck—but Grandmere won't let me get out of them because she thinks this movie thing is going to my head. Even though it was all _her _idea, but Dad says she's senile so I can't yell at her. Plus, she scares me, so I don't think I could yell at her anyway."

She took a deep breath. Good. I was worried about her for a second.

"So I'll be going then. Hope you feel better."

Like I'll ever, ever recover from being rejected like that.

But then I felt warm lips against my cheek. A few seconds later, the trailer door slammed. I rolled over onto my side, thoughts swirling around in my head.

What had just happened? Did she…? Even after I…? But what about…?

By George, I think I've got it.

And by it, I mean a girlfriend. I've got a girlfriend.

Holy shit.

Mia's POV

God, I'm so giddy!

All through princess lessons, I could hardly concentrate.

"Amelia!" said Grandmere sharply.

"Huh?"

He kissed me.

"Sit up straight and tell me the name of Prince William's favorite horse. I won't repeat myself again."

I kissed him.

"Uh…what?"

If he kissed me…does that mean he enjoyed it when I kissed him?

"I mean, beg pardon, Grandmere," I said after receiving the Death Glare.

"I don't like you going to that movie set all the time," said Grandmere. At least I'd gotten off the hook from the Royals I Should Marry quiz.

"It's fine, Grandmere. I'm not bothering anyone."

Just kissing.

"But what exactly has you all in a daze? It's not that Breslin boy, is it?"

The guy playing Kenny? Uh, no. I don't THINK so.

"It's nothing, Grandmere. I'm worried about…Algebra homework. Mr. G's giving us SO much lately!"

"Well," she said, smoothing down her Armani suit. "I'll just have to have a talk with him about that. We can't have your mind wandering all the time—especially not to something as banal as that."

"You're absolutely right. And I do believe Prince William's favorite horse is named Lissy."

"Very good!" proclaimed Grandmere, clapping her hands. To think, all I have to do to get on her good side is find her a way to yell at Mr. G.

I made a mental note and smiled complacently at Grandmere, trying to keep my daydreaming to a minimum.

I'll do anything to get away from quadratic equations.

-

Better things awaited me at home.

MICHAEL CALLED!

I wasn't quite sure who it was when I picked up my cell.

Me: Hello?

Michael: Uh, Mia?

MT: This is she.

MW: (laughing) Those princess lessons do help, I see.

This is about the time I realized it was Him.

MT: Oh, haha. Unfortunately. It seeps into my blood.

MW: That's kinda gross, but cool. So…how are you?

MT: Pretty good. What about you? Feeling any better?

My tone may have been cool, but I was shaking uncontrollably.

MW: Ya know, it's funny. Just before you left, I started feeling miraculously better.

I can't breathe.

MT: Oh, really? That's…nice.

MW: (softly) Yeah, it is.

There was a thirty-second comfortable silence. Michael Moscovitz likes me!

MT: So I'll be there tomorrow. After my princess lessons.

MW: You can't skip school again? My stomach still feels awful. You could bring me Saltines and Sprite and call me Hot Pants…

MT: (giggling like an idiot) I can't skip again! But maybe I can get off princess lessons.

MW: I can settle for that. And, ya know that thing that made me feel better?

MT: (blushing so much he could probably hear it) I think so.

MW: More of that would be…therapeutic.

Right about then, my mom started yelling at me to get started on my Algebra—damn her boyfriend.

MT: I gotta go.

MW: Okay, then. See ya tomorrow.

MT: Tomorrow.

Ahhhh, I'm so in love.

Michael's POV

Well. I'm happy.

I managed not to screw up my first romantic, mushy-gushy call!

That's not to say my heart wasn't just about to pound out of my chest the whole time.

We haven't officially established that we're dating—but I can't help but envision future kisses and first dates and holding her hand some more. That would rule.

Even though I was feeling up to it, there weren't any scenes for me to film that day. So I just lazed around until Mia got there. I even watched a bit of my movie—which she left behind.

The sad thing is that thing's less cheesy than any of my recent films.

Anyway, I was taking a short nap when I heard a rap on my trailer door. I hopped up and went to open the door for her. "Hey," I said, my cheeks redder than they've ever been with movie-makeup. "Come on in."

As soon as she stepped inside, I gave her a quick peck on the cheek, just to make sure yesterday hadn't been a dream.

I pulled back and searched her face for a reaction. And it was most definitely pleasing—her smile broadened and she kissed me—on the lips—until I thought my head was going to explode.

"Your lips have healing powers, I think," I murmured, kissing her gently. I got her teeth instead, since she was grinning so widely.

Mind you, this was the first girl I had kissed and meant it. Sure I had been out with a few girls—but any kisses I gave them were purely to get them to shut up.

I helped Mia with her Algebra homework. I somewhat-coyly suggested we play Strip Equations, but Mia declined. I settled for kissing her for every answer she got.

I'm taking her out this weekend. No bodyguards, no limos, no friends.

Just us. And I can't wait.


	16. Snoopy Impersonations

Mia's POV

Michael and I have been…I wanna say dating, but I'm not sure if that's right. Does he think of me as his girlfriend? Or am I just someone he likes to kiss a lot. And I mean A LOT.

Anyway, Grandmere has been on my case since we started this kissing-thing a few weeks ago. She keeps saying that I'm distracted, that I'm not paying attention. Of course I'm not paying attention when she's berating me on the boring details of my royal duties or whatever she babbles on about.

But I don't care. Michael's lips make it all worth it. Just like I always imagined they would be, they're soft and warm and gorgeous. And kissing his actual lips, as opposed to the lips on my Michael Wilson poster, is so much better. Nothing compares to it.

So she can moan about me not paying attention all she likes, I'm happy and that's all that matters. I'm going to keep seeing (or kissing, whatever) Michael, and there's nothing she can do about it.

Michael's POV

Early morning shoots suck. I'm not much of a morning person, so making sure I'm up early enough for makeup at 5am is torture. It's worse than wearing makeup in the first place. A little foundation never hurt anyone. And besides, it's actually nice sitting back and letting someone fuss over me.

"Michael, we need to talk," a deep voice came from the door. Jacques.

Great. Just the perfect time for a talk. It's 5.15am, and I can't move my face because of the face-tightening cream Joni, my makeup artist, insists on plastering on my face before she even starts with the makeup.

With minimal movement of my face, I muttered for him to come sit down.

"What's up, Jacques?" I said, though with my face tightened, it came

out more like, 'Wa hup, Chock?'

"I got a phone call yesterday," he said, rather somber. "From the Dowager Princess."

Uh oh. Mia's told me all about Grandmere. I wonder what she had to say for herself.

"She feels," Jacques continued. "That Mia's been rather distracted lately. That maybe something is happening when she visits the set, which keeps her distracted even when she's away from the set. Now, I don't know what's going on, but I'm guessing that it has something to do with you."

Mia and I have been rather secretive about our relationship. Not only do I not like showing Public Displays of Affection, but I don't want the media hounding her even more than they already do with the Princess thing. We'll tell the world about us when we're ready, I guess.

I nodded, and was about to mutter that I was sorry, and that I would encourage Mia to keep her concentration up around her grandmother, but Jacques kept talking.

"So maybe you could try to be a little nicer to the princess, okay?

Maybe then she won't be worrying herself over what Michael Wilson thinks of her, and why he can't be nicer to her. So throw her a smile or something once and again. It wouldn't kill you, would it?"

I'll throw her more than a smile, I thought.

"Mmmkay," I mumbled. Why tell him the truth if he doesn't need to know?

Knowing him, he'd only tell me to keep my hands to myself.

It's better this way. Really. And to make Mia concentrate more to keep

Grandmere happy, I'll offer incentives for the next time she sees me.

Who can resist my Snoopy impersonations?

Mia's POV

Michael called me after school, he said there was something we need to talk about. I hope he's not breaking up with me! Well, that's if we're actually dating. I have to ask him about that.

How do you go about asking someone how they think of you? Girlfriend?

Just a friend? Kissing partner?

Well, I guess I'm about to find out.

Michael pulled me into his trailer the second I knocked on it, and planted such a kiss on me I thought it was going to knock me to the floor.

"Hi," he said sheepishly when he finally pulled away.

"Hi," I replied, still a little taken aback by his boldness. Usually his kisses are softer, more gentle. Not that I mind a little aggression.

"Sit down." He motioned to the couch and sat down on one side. I sat next to him.

"So, what do you want to talk to me about?" I asked anxiously. He wouldn't be breaking up with me after a kiss like that, would he? Or was that like a goodbye kiss? One for the road.

"We'll talk about that later," he said. "Right now, I just want to do this."

He started nuzzling my neck, pushing me further back into the couch.

One hand was on the small of my back, and one in my hair.

"Michael, wait."

WHY, BRAIN, WHY? Why now? I have to ask him while he's kissing my neck like that? Who care's how he views me when he's doing this?

"What's wrong?" he asked, sitting up and looking intently at me.

"I just need to know…what…" Oh God, what do I say?

"What?" he asked gently.

"What am I?"

An idiot. That's what I am. And I don't need him to tell me that!

He raised an eyebrow at me. "What are you? Mia, you're kind, and caring. You're beautiful and generous. You're…"

Stupidly, I interrupted his compliments.

"No, I mean, in relation to you."

"In relation to me?" he repeated.

"Yeah. Am I just a friend? Or your…girlfriend?" Did I just ask that?

Finally he smiled. "Mia, you're all that and more. I'm crazy about you, and I want to spend every waking moment with you. Playing Josh is torture to me, because I don't ever want to be that guy. And I hate that he treated you like that. I want to make it up to you."

He leaned down and kissed me again. If his kisses are his way of erasing what Josh did to me, then bring it on. Josh who?

Michael's POV

She's so sweet. I can't believe she had the courage to ask me what she

just asked me. Most girls I've ever gone out with have just assumed that after one date, we're attached at the hip. Yet she's been seeing me for weeks, and didn't jump to any conclusions. I bet I could have told her we were just friends, and she would have said, "Okay."

I called her over today to encourage her to keep up her concentration levels, but when I saw her I couldn't help myself. She was just standing there on my step, looking so sweet and innocent, I had to kiss her.

I really think-

The front door swung open and someone barged in.

"Michael! What d'ya think you're doing?"

With my heart in my throat, I looked up to the door (damn that broken lock) to see Jacques shooting daggers at me.

Uh oh.


	17. A Small Favor

Mia's POV

This is probably not the _least _embarrassing situation I've ever been in.

Oh, who am I kidding!

I've never been more humiliated in my life! In fact, the only thing that saved me from completely spazzing out and sobbing like a baby was that Michael—although we had sat up—still hadn't taken his arms from around me, even though Jacques was glaring at him rather intensely.

"Princess, you had better get on home," he said through gritted teeth. "Michael has some work to do."

Michael started to protest, but from Jacques' expression I guess he realized it was futile. "Bye," he mumbled, kissing me—right in front of Jacques! ON PURPOSE!

"Bye," I whispered back, not quite ready to let go. Thankfully, he kissed me again to the increasing anger of Jacques.

"_Bye_," he said sternly, holding the door open for me.

I grabbed my bag and waved to Michael. "I'll call you," he mouthed behind Jacques' back.

He's soooooo sweet and funny and nice and…much goofier than I ever thought possible. You wouldn't think that the same guy who can kiss a girl and ride a motorcycle at the same time would be so nervous about French kissing that we had to try three times.

Michael's POV

I might be in a tad bit of trouble. At least judging from Jacques' rather indigo hue.

He's screaming and roaring and spitting all over the place, but I haven't really taken in much of what he's saying.

Mia…

"Blah blah blah can't blah blah Mia blah blah—" Jacques was shouting.

"Wait, wait, what? What about Mia?" I asked, suddenly captivated.

He took a deep breath and ran his fingers through his salt-and-pepper hair. "I don't think it's a good idea for you to hang around her any more."

"B-but…you TOLD me to. That's part of my job description!"

"Michael," Jacques sighed. "I told you to smile at her, not rape her!"

I sputtered incoherently for a good minute before I could get a decent word out. "I was _not _forcing myself on her. She—we were…just kissing."

Hell, if I can kiss all sorts of girls on the big screen all the time, can't I kiss one measly princess? I didn't see how professing my love for her would help anything, so I kept that part to myself.

"She's the freaking _princess _of _Genovia_," said Jacques, back to his ear-splitting volume again. "Her grandmother wouldn't exactly be thrilled if she found out about this, so it's over. _Now_."

It's all right. I took a deep breath. He's just the director of a stupid movie. He can't stop me from seeing Mia outside the set.

But now we've got paparazzi to contend with…

I popped in an old tape of Roadrunner cartoons, hoping for some hints.

Mia's POV

I shared a whispered exchange with Michael on his cell phone. I couldn't reallyunderstand him, butI did hear himsay he'd be over later tonight. "Can I come in through the window?" he asked.

"Um, all right," I replied, not too sure what he had against doors.

After I hung up, I went on a frantic cleaning spree, of course.

"What are you doing, Mia?" asked my mom slowly, watching me carry the vacuum cleaner, Clorox, and air freshener to my room.

"Spring cleaning, Mom! Duh."

"It's December."

"This…" I said slowly. "is true. But it's never too early to start!"

She mumbled something like "Wanna bet?" but returned her focus to I Love the '80s, leaving me to my gleeful preparation.

-

Michael came, as promised—but not until around eleven-thirty. I was wide awake anyway, so it didn't matter.

He beckoned me out onto the fire escape, holding a blanket and a cup of Ramen noodles. "Plug this in," he said, tossing me the electrical cord from the blanket.

I did so and crawled out there to join him, shivering until he wrapped his arms around me tightly, his mouth moving over mine till I forgot what weather even was.

"Want some noodles?" he said with chattering teeth. Since his lips were—er, out of sight before then, I only then noticed that they were blue from the cold.

"You're coming inside," I said firmly, grabbing his hand.

He didn't put up much of a fuss.

I shut the window behind him and wrapped the blanket around him. I can't have my boyfriend getting hypothermia. "Nice poster," laughed Michael, still shaking a bit.

AH! How did I not remember to take down my stupid Michael Wilson poster?

It's not really that stupid. In fact—it's quite nice, with his sculpted body and smoky eyelashes—

I looked down at real Michael, all bundled up and sniffling, and sat down in his lap.

Just as cute.

His arms encircled my waist. "Jacques was kind of pissed about earlier."

"Sorry," I said sheepishly.

"Not your fault," he said, his mouth on my neck. "But he doesn't want me seeing you…in that capacity."

I pulled away from him, wringing my hands together nervously. "Oh…well, then."

I can't believe it's already over! I mean, I just found out that he's crazy about me—and now we're being tragically separated!

_This _has the makings of a great movie. But who would play Michael? Josh Richter?

But right before I burst into tears, I found myself laying flat on my mattress, Michael's body positioned on top of me. "That's not gonna happen," he assured me. He paused for a minute, nibbling at my earlobe. "There's no way he can stop us from hanging out off-set."

"Plus, you're almost done filming, right?"

Michael shrugged. "We're taking a break for Christmas, and then I think there's been a rewrite so I've gotta re-shoot half my scenes. It's ridiculous."

Break for making out.

"But…" said Michael, a tad out of breath now. "I am taking you out this weekend. Remember?"

"Of course," I giggled.

"You're too cute," murmured Michael, rolling off of me. "Do me a favor, though."

"Uh huh?" Oh, God. A favor! He wants me to go down on him, doesn't he? I may love him—but I don't think I love his…manhood.

"Take down the poster, would ya? I turn me off."

"Done." Besides, having the real Michael is soooo much more satisfying.


	18. Norman's Trailer

Ouch. Two reviews? Is there anyone else out there reading?

Mia's POV

After Michael and I devoured the (cold) Ramen noodles last night, as well as each other, he left. But not before arranging to meet at the movies at one o'clock on Saturday. He's spending the entire day with me!

It'll be Christmas Eve-Eve, so we're going to see a Christmas movie special, then walk around holding hands for a while (this is our first 'outing' as a couple. He knows the Press is gonna be all over us, so he said that since we can't dodge them Roadrunner-style, we shouldn't hide it. Apparently we'll give them plenty of 'juicy' stuff for photos. Who am I to say no?), and finally have dinner at this neat little vegetarian restaurant downtown.

It'll be perfect.

Because he's perfect. He's already told me that nothing can stop us from being together. Not Jacques, not Grandmere, not the Press. No one.

And I believe him.

Michael's POV

Jacques has been on my ass all day. He keeps yelling 'Cut!' even when everything is going perfectly. He's just doing it so I'll get so annoyed and stop seeing Mia. But I won't. After all, it's his movie. If my acting is bad because he keeps yelling Cut then it's his fault…And that's what I'll tell the critics.

He also keeps whispering threats in my ear. 'I'll take away your Playstation privileges,' or 'No lunch truck for the rest of the movie,' or 'I'll give you the dingy trailer we gave to Norman.'

Big whoops. None of those things bother me. The Playstation is always being used by the kids of members of the crew, who are hanging around while on Christmas break, and I have enough money to not only provide my own lunch, but buy my own trailer if he takes mine away.

So there's nothing he can say to get me to reconsider. Nothing. And we're making our relationship official to the world on Saturday.

Mia's POV

I figured that if Michael and I are 'coming out' on Saturday, I should tell Kenny about us first, so he's not surprised. I owe him that much at least. And it's the last day of school before Christmas break, so I've got to do it now.

"Kenny," I whispered during Biology. He ignored me. Just like he has since he confronted me about that voice mail I left on his phone. That was an awkward conversation. And it's made Biology awkward since.

"Kenny!" I tried again.

"What, Mia?" he snapped, still not looking at me.

"Um, you know I'm really sorry about how I broke up with you, right?"

He finally turned to me, smiling broadly. "So you want to give it another go?"

Um, no. So no.

"Uh, no, Kenny. I just thought that I owed you the truth."

"And what is the truth, Mia?" He's shooting daggers at me. His smile is gone.

"Well, you know Michael Wilson? He's playing Josh in the movie."

"Of course I know who Michael Wilson is. Who doesn't? What about him?"

"Well, he and I are…we're sort of together now. I just wanted you to know."

"Oh. I thought you weren't much of a romantic person. You said you were more of a platonic person. At least that's what you said in your voicemail. Do you want me to play it for you?"

"No, that's okay. Um, I guess me and Michael are just more compatible than you and me. I'm sorry. I just thought you'd like to know."

"Yeah," he said sarcastically. I didn't think Kenny was capable of sarcasm. "Thanks."

Then he returned to his work.

Michael's POV

Ha! Jacques has called me into his office. Most likely to beg and plead with me. Good luck, buddy.

"Michael, sit down," he said when I walked into the room. He's sitting opposite someone who I recognised instantly. George Lucas.

Holy crap. This guy is like, my idol. I got into acting because of the Star Wars movies. I always wanted to be Luke Skywalker when I was a kid. I still have my first Light Saber.

Shaking slightly, I sat down next to The God and attempted a smile, but it probably came out making me look creepy. Great.

"Michael," Jacques said again, smiling as if he knew something I didn't. "I'm sure you know George. He and I are about to go out for lunch, but I thought you might like to meet him first."

"Uh…" That's all I'm able to say to the man sitting next to me. No, wait, the God sitting next to me. Let's try again. "Hi, I'm Michael."

Duh. And I've won awards for my acting! If only they could see me now.

"It's nice to meet you, Michael. I've heard a lot about you. And my daughters love your movies."

Compliments from George Lucas? What could be better? Working with him, hands down.

"Thanks. I'm a big fan of yours actually. Star Wars was what made me want to be an actor."

Jeez, suck up, much? At least I'm not babbling.

George smiled at me. "Good to hear. Well, we'd better get going. I'll see you round, Michael."

See you round, Michael. So casual. So unbelievably cool.

"Actually, George," Jacques said as we were standing up. "I'll meet you at the car in a few minutes, I just need to talk to Michael for a minute. Okay?"

"Sure," the God said, before walking out the door.

"Jacques!" I practically squealed once the door closed. "You rock! Thank you so much!"

He smiled. "No worries, Michael. I knew you'd skin me alive if you found out he'd been on the set and I didn't introduce you. But…"

There has to be a 'but', doesn't there? A price to pay. I knew it.

"What, Jacques?" I said, with a little more bite than usual.

"Well, George is doing a new movie. He's looking for a young male to play the lead role. Someone with experience and a household name. I thought…"

ME? In a George Lucas film?

"You'd put in a good word for me? Jacques, I don't…I don't know how to thank you. I've been wanting to get into movies with a little more substance, not that I don't love your movies, and all," I added quickly, seeing his raised eyebrows. "But doing a George Lucas film would be the best opportunity for me. Thank you so much."

Jacques smiled again. "I thought you'd be appreciative of it, Michael. And I'm sure there's something we can find for you to do to make it up to me. Don't worry about that."

Wait a minute…

With a victorious smile, he waltzed out the door.

WHAT did I just agree to?


	19. A Galaxy Far, Far Away

Yay! You're still out there!

Mia's POV

Ugh.

Just my luck. Michael called Friday night, sounding pretty jittery. I thought it might just be nerves about our date and everyone soon knowing about us, but he had a different agenda.

"Hey," he said, his voice not as sweet as it usually was.

"Hey, I tried to convince my mom to get Lars off my tail, but he's going to have to come. Don't worry, he'll stay way far behind."

"Mia, about tomorrow…"

Uh-oh. I didn't like the sound of that.

"I can't make it," he mumbled. "I'm going home on Christmas Eve, and I've got to pack because I'm leaving at, like, 5 in the morning."

I sank onto my bed, my happiness deflating. "Oh."

"Hey," said Michael, the sweet voice returning. "Don't sound so down. I've got a plan!"

"Hmm."

"I was thinking…I mean, only if you wanted to. You might think this is lame, or we're moving too quickly or whatever," he said this all in one breath.

"Just tell me, Michael."

"Wanna spend Christmas with me? In Connecticut with my parents and my baby brother. Will—he's the coolest kid _ever_. You'll love him! That is…if you wanna come."

I giggled in unadulterated glee. "Of course I do! Is it okay with your parents?"

"Definitely. They wanna meet you and embarrass me and all of that."

He was willing to be humiliated to spend time with me!

"I need to check with my mom, but I would be honored."

"Cool. I'll call you tomorrow then?"

"Okay," I said softly, holding the phone close.

Just two more days till I'm in his arms again!

Michael's POV

Well, then.

The Plus Side:

1. I'm spending Christmas with my beautiful, sweet girlfriend.

2. My parents go to sleep early.

3. The guest room is next to mine.

4. Meaning, late-night visitations.

5. I'm seeing my parents for the first time in six months.

6. Will is now a year old, and should be tons more fun.

7. I'm gonna be in a George Lucas movie!

The Negatives:

1. I kind of agreed to stop seeing Mia so I could be in a George Lucas movie

2. I'm going to have to stop seeing Mia.

3. I'm going to have to tell her this.

4. She's going to be mad at me.

5. She won't want to talk to me.

6. Which won't matter, since we have to stop dating.

7. My relationship will probably die before that—after my parents sing those songs and tell the ocean story.

8. I can't stay home forever with Mia as my girlfriend and stupid movies in a galaxy far, far away.

Which reminds me, I agreed to stop seeing Mia so I could be in a George Lucas movie. Lilly always said that my Star Wars obsession would turn any girl off.

She's right—isn't it because of Star Wars that I'm losing my first real girlfriend?

I'm an idiot.

I'm going to be in a real movie.

I used to just be a douchebag—but now I'm a complete and utter moron.

I can't turn down George, but I can't dump Mia.

If I look at it this way, it wasn't going to last. Jacques would've found some other way to keep us apart. And if not Jacques, her grandmother. It's better this way. At least they won't ruin my career before I have to break up with Mia.

I'm really going to miss her. She has this adorable way of twirling a strand of hair around her finger and clacking her tongue when she's nervous. And when we kiss, sometimes she holds me so tightly I have a hard time breathing—and the strange is, I _love it._

She's fourteen, though. Come January—we couldn't have done anything legally. Plus the princess thing wouldn't make our relationship any easier.

My heart was weighed down with guilt when I stopped at Mia's early on Christmas Eve to pick her up.

Her eyes were still droopy with sleep. "Morning," I murmured, pressing my lips to hers.

For right now, I'm still her boyfriend. I don't have to feel bad about doing that. I'll feel bad enough later.

Mia's POV

Michael seemed kind of weird on the train ride up. I guess he was tired, or nervous about going home after so long.

Why should he be nervous? I'm the one meeting my boyfriend's parents? What if they disapprove of me? What if they think I'm taking their baby boy away from them? What if they eat lots and lots of meat?

Michael had fallen asleep on my shoulder, so he wasn't available to console me. I was left to sweat it out on my own.

-

Oh, God! I can't believe I was ever the least bit worried. Michael's parents—they told me to call them Karen and Paul, which I can't bring myself to do, but still—are the _nicest _people. They're both psychoanalysts, Michael told me, so I was worried that they'd make me lie down on a couch and talk about why I enjoyed making out with their son so much.

But they weren't like that in the least. And Michael's baby brother—CUTEST. BABY. EVER.

He latched onto Michael's leg the minute we walked in and hasn't let go of him since. He calls him "Mikey". He likes to play with Michael's hair.

Awwww.

Michael grinned at me helplessly as Will babbled on about the Wiggles or something. I smiled back, taking a sip of my cocoa.

"So…" said Michael's mom, coming out of the kitchen. "I see Michael's gotten over his fear of girls."

"I was never afraid of—"

"He had nightmares about sugar, spice, and everything nice," joked his dad. "Tell us about yourself, Mia. Michael says you're a princess."

I blushed. "Well…I wasn't told till recently, but my dad's the prince of Genovia, and he can't have any more kids—so I'm it. I'm the heir."

"Isn't that nice?" said his mother, smiling kindly at me. "I knew Michael wouldn't just fall for anybody."

Michael's entire face was beet red. "I don't like her 'cause she's a princess. I like her 'cause…"

"Because?" his parents and I prompted.

"Because…she's smart, and she makes me laugh, and she took care of me when I was sick, and I don't have to put up an act with her."

"I knew my baby wasn't a chauvinistic pig," said Michael's mom joyfully, coming over and mussing up his hair.

"God," he groaned, rubbing his head furiously. He was smiling, though.

And so was I.


	20. Ignorance is Bliss

Michael's POV

It's Christmas Eve night, and while my family was exchanging gifts, my cell phone rang.

"Hello?" I answered it, after excusing myself and walking into the kitchen.

"Michael? It's Jacques. I hope I haven't caught you at a bad time, I know it's Christmas Eve and all."

"It's fine, Jacques," I said tiredly. I'm really beginning to hate this guy. "What's up?"

"Well, I just thought you'd like to know, that I just spoke with George, and you're a shoo-in for the role. He still wants you to do a screen test, but you'll get it, I'd bet my life on it."

"That's great!" I tried my hardest to summon up some enthusiasm, but's it's damn hard. On one hand, it IS great. Because starring in a George Lucas film would be the highlight of my career. But on the other hand, it means my relationship with Mia is over.

"You don't sound too happy about it, Michael? You're not still crying over the princess are you?"

I sighed loudly; I don't care what he thinks of me. He can call me a baby all he wants. "Jacques, why is it so important to you that I break up with Mia? Pretty soon, the movie will be done with and you and I will be parting ways." Thankfully.

"Because, Michael. The Dowager Princess has strictly forbade any kind of relationship with you and her granddaughter."

"So? Let us deal with the old woman."

"Clarisse is not an old woman!"

Whoa. If only I were an idiot and couldn't read between the lines here. Whoever said ignorance is bliss nailed it.

"Jacques, are you and...Clarisse an item?"

There was a long pause on the other end of the phone. Then, "Don't be foolish, Michael. Just break up with the girl and do it soon. Then I can tell the Dowager Princess and everything will be all right."

Before I could respond, he hung up.

I slipped my phone back in my pocket and walked back into the family room.

"Everything okay?" Mia asked, slipping an arm around me as I sat down.

"Um, yeah, I guess. Listen, do you want to go for a walk?"

She looked quickly at my parents, who were helping Will unwrap what I can only assume is a trike. What else has three wheels and a tray on the back? "Sure."

How can I break up with her? Especially not since now I know Jacques only wants us to break up so he can get in Mia's grandmother's good books. I'm not going to help him do that! Not if it means hurting Mia.

That's it. I've made my descision. I'm not going to do it. I'll tell Jacques he can go to hell, and we'll deal with her Grandmother's disapproval ourselves.

As for my George Lucas movie, well, we'll cross that bridge when we get to it.

Mia's POV

Michael's so sweet. He's taking me to see all the place's he used to play at when he was growing up. The playground around the corner, the old school, the giant elm tree up the block. We're sitting in the tree's branches now, his arm is protectively wrapped around me so that we don't fall out.

"Mia, there's something we need to talk about," he said.

Uh oh. That's never good.

"About what?" I asked, pulling slightly away from him so I can see his eyes. In the bright moonlight, I can see he's concerned about something. Then again, you can tell that just by his tone of voice.

"Um, well, you know your grandmother?"

"Obviously, Michael. Since she is MY grandmother. What about her?"

"Well, she's not very happy about us being together."

"I know," I let out a sigh. "When she found out she hit the roof. She said that people from 'The Holly Wood' aren't suitable for royalty. So when I asked mom if I could spend Christmas with you, I made her promise not to tell Grandmere."

Ha! Good luck then, Jacques!

"So do you think there's anything she can do to keep us apart?"

"Well, she can try. But I'm not going to let her. There's nothing she can offer me to make me stop seeing you. Nothing."

"Good." He kissed me quickly on the end of my nose. "I'll just tell Jacques where to go then."

"Jacques? What does he have to do with anything?"

"Well, he was trying to get me to break up with you. But I won't, don't worry."

"Why does he not want us together?"

"Well, he's trying to get in with your grandmother, I think. Gross, I know. But he's desperate. He even got George Lucas to consider me for his new film."

"George Lucas? The guy who is responsible for the Star Wars movies!"

"Yeah, that's him."

"And you turned him down to be with me?"

Michael and I have had many discussions about George Lucas and the Star Wars movies. We're both major fans. So for him to turn down the opportunity to be in one of his films is just the coolest thing ever. I know how much it would mean to him.

"Well..."

That doesn't sound promising. What happened to 'Jacques can go to hell?'

"Well what? Are you going to sacrifice our relationship to be in a movie?"

I removed myself from his clutch completely. I'm now standing on the ground, while he's still in the lowest branch.

"No, no. No decision about me being in the movie has been made yet, I still have to screen test for it..."

"But you're considering it? You'd leave me to be in a movie?"

"Mia, it's not like that. This is a great opportunity for me..."

"No, it's okay, Michael. I get it. I'm going to bed now, and when you wake up in the morning, I won't be here. Have a good Christmas or Hanukkah, or whatever."

Urghh! I stormed back up the road to the house he grew up in. He's calling out to me, but I don't want to speak to him. I don't even want to listen. I can't believe he's going to ruin what we have for a movie! I don't care if it's directed by George-freaking-Lucas!

Michael's POV

Who's an idiot? Me, that's who. Everything was going great. I told her I wasn't going to let Jacques split us up, but then she got the wrong end of the stick when I was trying to explain to her about the movie.

And now she's barricaded herself in the guest room and isn't coming out.

"Mia!" I called again. "Open up, I just want to explain."

No response.

"Mia!"

This is hopeless. She's never going to talk to me, and she's never going to come out of the room if I'm here. Unless...

With a stroke of genius, I pulled out my cell phone and turned the caller ID sending to off. Then I rang the cell phone that I gave her a few weeks ago.

"Hello?" a sniffling voice answered.

"Mia, will you just open up the door and listen to me. Please?" I spoke softly and calmly. Yelling at her over the phone would do no good whatsoever.

"Michael, I don't want to hear it. And I've already called dad, he's sending Lars over with a limo right now. They'll be here in the morning."

"Mia, no. Don't leave..." I started, but she'd already hung up.

Damnit. Now what am I supposed to do?

A/N: Schwartzibrow knows what Schwartzibrow is doing.


	21. Millennium Falcon

Mia's POV

I've been crying for hours now.

It's a good thing Lars didn't ask any questions when he arrived, because I couldn't have gotten a word out. He just put his arm around me in an uncley way and ushered me out to the limo.

Michael can explain everything to his parents. I want nothing more to do with that idiot ever again. Ugh, I should've known that the Michael Wilson in him would never die out. I'm the idiot for not foreseeing this.

But, seriously. One minute we're kissing and cuddling and he's being sweet and adorable, and the next he's breaking it to me that CHEWBACCA means more to him than I do!

I will never in a million years get boys.

How could he do this to me! Oh, yes. He's an _actor_. This is what he does for a living. This is why he's leaving me!

I just never thought he'd pull one over on me. He even told me he couldn't act around me! Of course, all part of the ruse.

What did he need me for, though? Maybe he thought a relationship with New York's princess would further elevate his career. And when he found out that Grandmere wasn't taking the bait, he bailed.

Grrr! I thought I hated him when he was a jerk, but now he's a conniving weasly sonuva—

Wait, I like Michael's mom.

But that's Michael MOSCOVITZ'S mom. And Michael Moscovitz isn't real. Or he died a long time ago.

Kinda like Anakin Skywalker died and became Darth Vader.

Gah! I will not think about Star Wars. I'm crying again! And I refuse to shed another tear over him.

You shouldn't cry over assholes. They aren't even worth what the box of tissues cost.

Michael's POV

I can't believe that I did it again.

I broke her heart. And this time it's even more serious! This time it wasn't a schoolgirl crush on a movie star. She really, genuinely cared about me.

And you know what else is changed?

I love her now. I've had a crush on her since that day at the movies, but I fell in love when she went all nursemaid on me.

Is this what a broken heart feels like? I'll have to remember that for…

NO! My stupid movies are what got me into this mess in the first place.

That and my man-crush on Han Solo.

Dear God,

How are you? I'm pretty shitty, thanks. Listen, if Mia does the sane thing and refuses to take me back, may I please have a Millennium Falcon instead? Thank you.

Love and kisses,

Michael Moscovitz, Esq.

There, that should do it.

I think I might go barf now.

Mia's POV

I called Tina, and though I didn't actually SAY a word; I think she got the gist by my uncontrollable sobbing.

"I'll be right over."

"What happened?" she was asking a minute later, rubbing my back as I cried into my Tweety Bird pillow.

I lifted my head up slightly, reaching for a fresh tissue. Somehow my resolve not to cry had diminished when I spotted my Princess Leia screensaver.

Needless to say, my computer is now unplugged.

"He…he…" I choked, burying my face into the pillow once more.

"It's all right," said Tina soothingly. "You don't have to tell me right now."

The phone rang, and we both looked at it cautiously. "Your mom will pick up," assured Tina.

"She's at the studio," I sniffled.

"Then the answering machine."

Once again, I contradicted her. "Broken."

"Well, what if it's not him? It could just be your grandmother or something."

I smiled a little. "That's almost worse."

Tina picked up the phone slowly. "Hello?"

She looked over and made a slashing mark across her throat. I'm not quite sure what that was supposed to mean, but I gathered the caller was not welcome.

"She doesn't want to talk to you, and I don't either. Goodbye."

Tina slammed down the phone, grinning in triumph.

"It was him then?"

Hesitantly, she nodded. "He _did _sound sorry, you know."

"Tina," I admonished, sitting up and rubbing my eyes. "Michael's famous for pretending to be something he's not. How am I supposed to believe anything he says?"

"Well, you never even told me what he did. Was there another girl?"

Oh, God. What if there was? What if he found out Paris Hilton wanted him? That would be even better for his stardom than dating me would ever be. "He…he…got an offer to do this movie but only if he broke up with me."

"You!" asked Tina, flabbergasted. "But what do you have to do with anything? Poor Michael, having to give up his love for the screen…"

"You're not listening! He chose a movie over me! And we weren't in love."

So Tina did what best friends are supposed to and got even more upset than me. "Who does he think he is! He's been in plenty of movies. And they're all the same! He even kisses the same every time…"

She drifted off, looking at me strangely. "Um, I was wondering…"

"Yeah?"

"What does it feel like to receive a kiss from Michael Wilson?"

I groaned inwardly. Yeah, I really want to think about his tongue in my mouth when I'm wicked pissed at him. "He's not quite the master that he is on-screen," I said with a giggle.

"Oh, really?"

"Yeah," I said, building up steam. "He said I was his first real kiss. And he'd never French-kissed a girl before me."

"Not even on screen?" asked Tina, in a hushed voice. It's tough to have your idol brought down a notch. I know from experience.

I shook my head, grinning wickedly. "He licked my nose by mistake. It was so gross."

"So you're saying Michael's not so wonderful when the cameras are off?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying!" His film persona would NEVER have pulled this stunt with a girl. Then again, I don't think he's ever had a role as a movie star. "He's a virgin too."

He'd told me once when we were cuddling on the couch in his trailer. He was really embarrassed by it too. In fact, he'd only mentioned it because of the rumor circulating that he nailed a hairdresser on the set of his last movie.

Maybe it's not so weird for some people. But MICHAEL WILSON? Hottie extraordinaire? Favorite of the ladies! He's got his own apartment, for crying out loud! You'd think he'd have all sorts of skanks over.

It was kind of sweet, now that I think about it—his explanation, I mean. He said he was waiting for someone special, and then he kissed me.

All an act, of course.

Anything Michael Moscovitz said or did is not to be taken seriously. So I just went ahead and told it all to Tina.

Sure, some of it was a little private, but _none _of it was real. So what does it matter?


	22. Lights, Camera, Action

Michael's POV

I think it's over. I tried calling Mia, but her friend Tina picked up and told me that neither of them wanted to talk to me. Which must mean I'm really in the shitter since usually Tina would never pass up a chance to talk to me.

How can it be over? I only just found someone I really like, and who really likes ME, not the Michael Wilson me, but the real me, and now it's over? I'm so going to kill Jacques for this. If he hadn't started it by offering to put in a good word with George Lucas for me, none of this would have happened.

I don't even know if I want to do that damn movie anymore, even if I do get the role. Maybe I should just quit altogether. It's just not worth it, is it?

I used to think that being with Mia made all the crap I go through worth it, but now that I don't have her, I don't have anything.

God, I sound so pathetic. I've got to pull it together.

Mia's POV

I feel so stupid. I can't believe how naive and...STUPID I was to have fallen for Michael. I should have stuck with my instincts when they told me he was no good after he made fun of me that day. Then this never would have happened. Sure, I'd still be with Kenny, but at least Kenny would never break up with me just for the sake of a stupid movie. Then again, maybe he would have if someone offered him a role in the next Yu Gi Oh movie or something.

So maybe it's not just Michael. Maybe it's all boys. I'm seriously considering joining a convent now.

Tina made me feel better about it just by listening to me. I told her all about how Michael told me that he likes to watch Seventh Heaven for warm fuzzies after a long day on the set. And that his first kiss was with a girl who was using him, just like Josh used me, and that since then he's found it hard to open up to girls. I even told her about Michael's collection of stamps and coins. I think I told her everything. Oh! Including the totally embarrassing story Michael's mom told me when I was helping her make the mashed potatoes for dinner. It just came spilling out of me and I couldn't stop it. I'm pretty sure I deflated Tina's God-like image of him.

I'm so glad school's broken up for the holidays, because if I had to deal with Lana right now, I'd probably kill her. I know mine and Michael's relationship was never outed to the public (which makes breaking up the teensiest easier), but knowing my mouth, I would have accidently let it slip, or else Kenny will have told everyone himself. And then she would have never have let me live it down. "I would have made a much better girlfriend for Michael Wilson!" Blah blah blah. She can have him. They're made for each other. They're both so two faced, and they've both mastered the art of telling people what they want to hear.

Because that's all Michael did. He told me what I wanted to hear, and then he used me.

I mean, really, as if Michael Wilson has never had a real girlfriend before, or a real kiss (other than that supposed one outside the deli in front of the cameras). As if he's never serenaded some other girl with heartfelt old school Backstreet Boys tunes. As if he's never told some other girl that he was the little girl in West Went Wally, as a way of gaining her trust. I was played, just like the rest of the girls he's duped.

It just makes me so mad!

Tina and I are going shopping today in the post-Christmas sales. She keeps telling me that a little retail therapy will fix everything. Well, unless Bloomingdales sells brand new hearts, I doubt it will.

Michael's POV

"You're an idiot!" Lilly screamed at me the second I walked onto the set, on the first day of filming after the Holiday break.

"Did you have a nice Christmas, Lilly?" I asked her, ignoring the screaming in my ear part.

"You're causing controversy and there's no need for it! And besides, Mia was a lovely girl, you didn't need to break her heart like that."

"How do you know what happened?" I asked her. As far as I knew, no one knows. It only happened a few days ago.

"Everyone knows, you fool!" she screamed at me again.

I looked around at the crew and other cast members to see my bewildered gaze was met with cold glares.

Jacques.

Without another word to Lilly, I stormed off in search of the little man responsible for all this.

"Jacques!" I banged repeatedly on his door until he opened it.

"Jesus, Michael. What's wrong?" he asked innocently. Yeah, like he knows nothing!

"What did you tell everyone about me and Mia?" I asked him, marching past him into the office.

"I didn't tell them anything. In fact, I never even got the chance to tell Clarisse that the two of you are over now since you haven't returned any of my calls."

"So...you didn't tell everyone what happened?"

"I didn't have to." He thrust three different magazines into my hands. "But believe me, I'm just as angry as you are about this. I just got off the phone to Clarisse before you barged in, and she's not at all happy with the way you handled things. She's holding me partially responsible for Mia's broken heart. Now, I fear I've lost all chance of having anything with her at all. Even friendship..."

I looked away from his forlorn face and down to the magazines in my outstretched hands.

Oh my God.

Seventeen, ElleGIRL and NEWSWEEK all have a picture of me on the front cover. The headlines scream, 'Michael the Betrayer', 'Michael Wilson Picks Movie Over True Love' and 'Heartbreaker'.

"Jacques! What the hell is this?"

"This, Michael, may very well be karma. It's come back to bite you on the ass."

I ripped open Newsweek and flipped it to the article about me and Mia.

And then I read with horror.

Mia's POV

I woke up this morning feeling better. And I have no idea why.

"Morning!" I greeted mom and Mr. G, who were sitting at the table eating breakfast.

"Mia, you're feeling better?" mom asked me. She's looking at me strangely too, probably because I haven't ventured out of my bedroom since I arrived home from Michael's parents' place.

"Yeah, I am. I don't know why, but I am."

"Good for you," Mr. G said. "You need to get back on the horse."

"Um, okay." I know Mr. G's just trying to be nice, but it's always weird when he tries to be all step-fathery. After all, he's still my Algebra teacher.

"Do you want some breakfast, sweetie?" mom indicated to the bacon and eggs they were about to eat. Does she still believe that I'm going to actually eat bacon again one day? She has no faith in my determination.

"I'll just have some eggs," I told her. "Thanks."

As soon as I sat down, someone knocked at the door.

I jumped up. "I'll get it."

A distraught Tina was on the other side of it.

"What's wrong, Tina?" I asked before ushering her inside.

"I've done something horrible, Mia. Just horrible." She started sobbing and sat down on the couch. Mom popped her head around the door but left us alone when she saw Tina was upset.

"Shh, it's ok. I'm sure it's not as bad as you think."

"Oh, it's worse. It's horrible! And I'm so sorry, Mia. I'm so sorry!"

"Tina, what happened?" I'm starting to get scared now. Tina's such a happy person, only something really bad could make her this upset. And why is she sorry to me?

"Look...look at this," she sobbed, throwing a handful of papers in my arms.

The papers turned out to be magazines with Michael's face on the front cover.

"Tina," I said, looking away from the magazines. "I don't want to look at your collection of Michael Wilson things right now. For some reason I woke up feeling better about the whole thing, but I still don't want to see him or read about him."

"No, Mia. These aren't from my collection. They're this month's, just released today. Just read the articles."

So I read them.

Michael's POV

I had to sit down after getting through only the first article. By the time I'd read the third one I'm ready to throw up all over myself.

How can Mia do this to me? Did our time together really mean that little to her?

And is Jacques right? Is this Karma?

"Jacques, what am I going to do about this?"

"I'm not sure there's much you can do, Michael. Other than contacting Mia herself and getting her to print a retraction."

I nodded. It makes sense, but I still don't think a front page, full size retraction will help my career now. It's down the toilet.

Maybe it's time for that Mariah-Style breakdown I planned. I might as well go out with a bang.


	23. Show Down

My partner in crime is AWOL, so I thought I'd update for ya'll.

Remember, Schwartzibrow loves each and every one of you. Yes, you.

* * *

Mia's POV

"_He can't even kiss!" giggled Mia. "I swear to God, he licked my nose once. I practically had to teach him…"_

_The princess' cheeks reddened slightly. "Well, he hasn't ever had sex, you know…"_

"_He's afraid of girls," said Michael's mother, laughing…_

"_When Michael can't sleep, he cuddles with a raggedy Cookie Monster doll he got as a baby…"_

"_Michael keeps a picture of his parents under his pillow…"_

"_He once locked himself in his apartment for three weeks and didn't even come out for food. I think he lived off Saltines and water…"_

"_This one time, we went to the ocean as a family," said his mother. "After a while, Michael came over, jumping up and down and saying he had to go to the bathroom. Now, the nearest restroom was, like, a mile up the boardwalk, so I just told Michael to go in the ocean." Mrs. Wilson broke into giggles, and took a moment to compose herself. "Anyway, I looked up a moment later to see Michael standing at the edge of the ocean—his swimming trunks around his ankles—peeing into the ocean."_

"_He made me call him Hot Pants."_

"_Oh, yeah. He was the girl in West Went Wally. They didn't even have to use makeup!"_

"_The tops of his ears turn red when he's lying."_

Oh, God.

Oh, GOD.

OH, MY DEAR LORD.

"Tina, I didn't even say all this." I am trying to remain calm. I will not scream. I will not cry. I will not hyperventilate.

"But, uh, it is true to everything you told me he said. So…oh, Mia, I'm so sorry!"

I plunked down on the couch. So…so…it looks like I went to all these magazines and told them Michael's innermost secrets. They even had the story of our break-up! And they didn't even mention that Michael locked himself in his apartment for three weeks because he was grief-stricken over his grandfather.

So he looks like an insensitive nut job.

And I look like a fame whore.

I'm never going to breathe properly again.

They even brought his mom into this! She's going to hate me. His whole family's going to hate me.

Most of all, Michael will hate me.

I'm the one who's supposed to hate him! He broke my heart.

And I just exploited the whole thing.

I suppose I should be all "Revenge is sweet" but I can't even think right now.

"It's not your fault, Tina," I said quietly. It is her fault, though. But I should've never told her everything. And the last thing I need right now is a fight with my best friend.

Tina hugged me tightly. "Hey, at least you got payback."

I nodded a little, but just before the tears started rolling, someone knocked loudly at the door.

Michael's POV

I wasn't quite ready to completely lose my mind without at least talking to Mia first. She at least owes me a civil conversation after what she just did.

You know what? I'm starting not to feel sorry for ending things with her—even though I wasn't even planning on it.

This break-up is all her fault, really. Then she went and morphed into every other girl and exploited me to the press.

I don't even want to think about all of this now. My mom called my cell phone crying earlier, assuring me she had nothing to do with this.

Nobody makes my mother cry, damnit.

After a minute of furious pounding on the Thermopolis' front door, I was greeted by the friend, who looked at me with wide eyes.

"Can I speak to Mia?" I said gruffly. I was decked out in my celebrity incognito outfit. Sunglasses, ski cap pulled low, black coat…the whole nine yards. Sure, I looked a little ridiculous, but the last thing I want is a run-in with the press.

I've even got a couple of bodyguards trailing me, and I hardly ever use security when I go out.

"Um," was all Deena had to say.

But Mia herself appeared in the doorway a moment later, her eyes red.

I made her cry. And she doesn't even know that it was all a misunderstanding.

Wait! What do I care about her feelings? She's the one who just threw away any chance we had of repairing this.

"So you saw the magazine?" she asked meekly.

"_Magazines_," I corrected, folding my arms over my chest.

There was about five seconds of tense silence, and then we both started yelling simultaneously.

"I can't believe you did that! Seriously, how immature can you get!"

"I thought you cared about me more than Skywalkers and Wookies!"

Not any more, I don't.

Mia looked nervously up and down the street. "You should come inside."

I stepped inside the loft, ready to start yelling again.

"Deena, get out," I snapped, noticing her watching our livid faces avidly.

"It's _Tina_," retorted Mia. She turned to her friend, sounding apologetic. "I need to talk to Michael alone."

As soon as Tina had gone, I turned to Mia, raising my eyebrows. "Well?"

"Well what?"

Well plenty! "Don't you have something you want to tell me?"

Mia feigned contemplation. "Um, let me see…you're an asshole and I never want to speak to you again?"

"Yeah, well, at least I had the decency to keep this between the two of us."

Her eyes narrowed. "I wouldn't use the word 'decent' in regards to anything you've done lately."

I took a deep breath and headed for the door, turning on my heel one last time to face Mia. "So are you going to get them to print a retraction?"

"Hey, if you wanted to tell _me _the lies, why can't the rest of the world hear them?" I wanted to shake that silly triumphant grin off her face.

I shifted from left to right, biting my lip. "Look, tell yourself whatever you want to ease your conscience, but I'm going to tell you the truth."

"That'd be refreshing."

"Just shut up for one second, would ya?" I twitched involuntarily, trying not to look at that bratty little face I used to think I loved. "I'm asking you to do me a favor. You hurt my family and you hurt me with that. Are you going to print a retraction?"

"No," said Mia finally.

I stomped out the door, not caring if I didn't see her or her stupid apartment ever again.

Mia's POV

So maybe I came off as a bit cold and unfeeling.

But just step in my shoes for a minute.

If he had just apologized for hurting me, maybe I would've been a bit more sympathetic. But it's not as if he hasn't told thousands of girls these lies before. He just didn't want it to go public that he's a complete asshole.

Really, this has been coming to Michael for a long time. See if George Lucas wants him now.

Ha!


	24. No Kung Fu

Michael's POV

It's been two whole days since those magazines came out, and I'm still fuming. She's ruined my career! I know I said I wanted to go out with a bang and all, but this wasn't the type of explosive magazine articles I wanted written about my demise.

She's ruined it all!

To top it off, this is supposed to be a happy time for me. It's my birthday in two days. I was planning on spending it with Mia, but I guess that's out the window now.

Wait, maybe there is something I can do to cheer myself up…It'll just take a little planning, but I think I can pull it off. It's a good thing I still have connections. I'm going to need them.

And will I let myself feel guilty about it? Hell no. I'm going to feel great about it.

Two can play at her game. I'm not the only one with a reputation to ruin.

Mia's POV

Should I have printed a retraction? Should I have at least told Michael the truth, that I wasn't even the one who went to the Press? Sure, it was an accident, Tina says, but she's still the one responsible for it, not me.

Ah, who cares? He certainly wouldn't care that I had nothing to do with it.

"Hey," Tina sidled up to me as soon as I arrived at school on the first day back.

"Hi," I replied, scanning the area to see that almost every pair of eyes are on me. I know just what they're thinking too. Either that it's all lies because Michael refused to have anything to do with me, and I was jealous. Or that I'm a two-faced witch who betrayed him more than he betrayed me.

But I don't care what they think. Much.

"How are you coping?" she asked softly as we walked through the double doors at the entrance.

"I'd be a lot better if you hadn't blabbed to the Press," I snapped, then felt guilty. It's not Tina's fault Michael's an ass. And besides, I probably shouldn't have told her in the first place. "Sorry, T. I'm just not sure how I'm going to handle people like Lana."

"If she gives you any trouble, just say the word and Wahim will handle it. I've already given him permission to use any sorts of moves he wants to. He's quite the Kung Fu artist, you know."

I stifled a laugh. "Tina, you can't set our bodyguards on a teenage girl for teasing me. That's not what they're here for. Now, if Lana tried to abduct me, I'd be all for Kung Fu."

"Okay, I understand." She turned around to Wahim and made a slashing motion across her neck.

"But thanks," I told her, appreciating her more and more.

By the time Algebra came around, I'm totally rethinking the 'No-Kung-Fu' rule. Maybe a little slapping around would do people like Lana some good. She hasn't gotten off my case since she sat down in front of me.

"You're such a horrible person, Mia. Telling all those lies about Michael Wilson. As if he'd ever be interested in you in the first place. I don't know what you though you'd gain from spreading lies like that. Did you think that'd make him like you?"

"Leave me alone, Lana," I told her as strongly as I could muster. 

"What's wrong? Are you actually feeling guilty enough by yourself? Well I think you need to feel just a little more guilty. You know it's his birthday tomorrow? How is he supposed to enjoy it now with all these lies floating around?"

Oh God, I completely forgot about his birthday. I really am the most horrible person on the planet, aren't I?

Maybe I should have that retraction printed in tomorrows issue of The New York Times. Even if Michael thinks it's too late to save his career or whatever, at least I'll feel better about it.

Michael's POV

Revenge is sweet. Now I know how Mia felt when she blabbed about me…

But did she feel guilty at the same time? Because I feel totally guilty. I know I shouldn't, because it's exactly the same as what she did to me, but I still feel totally wrong for having done it.

I probably shouldn't have stooped so low. Two wrongs don't make a right.

There I go again with the sensitivity crap. I've got to snap out of it. I've got to become the stone wall that I was before Mia came along and knocked my barriers down.

"So, Sarah," I said when she entered the dressing tent. We're doing one of the last Josh scenes, pretty soon I'll be out of Mia's life, real or movie, forever. Thank God. "What are you doing tomorrow night?"

She looked at me strangely for a second. We haven't spoken about what happened with Mia, so I'm not sure if she's on my side or not. 

"Nothing, Michael, but…"

"Great. It's my birthday and I'm planning a little impromptu party at my place if you're interested."

"No, actually I'm not. Listen, I may not be Mia in real life, but I'm playing her character in this movie. And although I know that it's not exactly the same as what happened to her, I can understand that she hasn't had the best of times recently. And what you did to her, it was horrible. I don't blame her for going to the press. So I'm not going to party with you now, or ever. Okay?"

She turned on her heel and walked out of the room before I could even respond.

Will all girls from now on think the same way? Has Mia not only ruined my career but my future with the ladies?

And do I now feel worse about what I did, or better? It's hard to tell. 

Mia's POV

After school I picked up the phone and dialled The New York Times.

"New York Times, Helen speaking."

"Er, hi. Um, I have a story for you to print in tomorrow's edition. It's for the front page."

"We already have a front page story for tomorrow. It's Michael Wilson's version of events in the recent scandal. And we're not willing to change it at this late notice. It's actually a very good article, it's very revealing."

Oh Lord.

I hung up without responding.

What has Michael told them?

I have to talk to him. I have to KILL him.


	25. Give Deena My Regards

Mia's POV

I went to the only place where I thought I might find Michael: the set.

All eyes were on me as I headed towards his trailer, but I paid no attention. It had been like this everywhere since…well, since all this happened. I was used to it by now.

However, before I could climb the steps to that filthy old trailer, Lilly jumped in my way. "Hello, Princess. May I help you?"

"I'm just here to see Michael," I said, trying and failing to get around her. "I need to talk to him," I said, looking her straight in the eye. Okay, why am I the one being scorned here? This is all his fault.

"I don't know if that's the best idea."

"But—"

"Mia," said Lilly, lowering her voice. "Look, you have your reasons to be upset, but I think you've made this all public enough."

"What about him!" I retaliated, gesturing angrily towards his humble abode.

"If we had known he was going to the papers, we would have stopped him. As it is, we're doing all we can to keep this from escalating."

"I can't just _talk _to him?" I sighed. Haven't I been through enough?

Lilly looked around nervously and let her shoulders drop. "Fine, but only because I think Michael deserves it. But next time, keep your lover's spats to yourselves."

Before I could tell her that we were NOT in love and there would NOT be a next time, because it was most definitely over, we had reached the door to his trailer. "It's open," she said, nudging me towards the door. "And don't claw him or anything. His looks are all he's got. You've obviously noticed he hasn't really got smarts to fall back on."

That's not true. He's a genius! At least when it comes to algebra and all of that. Michael sucks at people skills, though. I opened the door cautiously and Lilly vanished.

The first thing I noticed upon stepping inside is that Michael only had one light on, and it was a Mickey Mouse nightlight. I also spotted Breakfast at Tiffany's playing on the TV, but no one seemed to be watching it.

Michael was lying face down on his bed, completely motionless. It was right then that I had the _strangest _thought. I had this whole little vision of Michael being dead, and me going to his funeral and _laughing_.

But then I looked at his still form again and took it all back. I'd feel pretty terrible if he was dead, especially if we're in an awful row like this. Also, if he died that would just give people more reason to hate me.

"I can't take it any more!" I screamed, causing Michael to jerk up. He snatched the remote and switched off the TV, before turning to look at me.

"Oh." He fell back onto his pillow, looking supremely annoyed. "What are _you _doing here?"

Okay, we had completely gotten to second base on that same bed, but now I just wanted to strangle him. "You know exactly why I'm here. I saw the article."

"Well, you better expect me to show the same amount of sympathy you showed me."

"No, Michael," I protested, stomping my foot. "This is different!"

"Oh, yeah? Do elaborate."

I willed myself not to cry. But any time I'm near him, I'm going insane with all these different emotions and memories and such burning, fiery HATE.

It's not just the breaking of my heart that humiliated me, but the fact that he sucked me in. I mean, he really had me there for a while. And now he's set on just breaking my spirit or something.

"Haven't you already embarrassed me enough?"

He smiled, but not the goofy little grin he used to give me. In fact, it wasn't even really a smile. Sure, the corners of his mouth turned up, but his gaze remained icy. "I don't think so. Don't pretend you've done nothing wrong."

"I haven't!" I wailed, plunking down on the end of his bed. I blinked back tears and shivered a little.

Michael stood up and walked over to the mini-fridge, getting a beer out. "Um, ruining my reputation and spreading private stories all over the place? Making my mom look bad? Yeah, I'd say you did."

"B-but it was Tina!"

He stopped for a moment, then put the beer back and looked at me. "Who?"

"My friend. She's got the black braid. She came along to the movies that one time."

Clarity spread across Michael's face. "Deena?"

"Tina," I corrected, but he waved me off.

"But that doesn't even matter, because you wouldn't print a retraction."

I stood up and walked to the door. "Well, then. I don't think there's any more to say here."

"Wait, Mia," he said, standing in front of the door. "Um…"

I was pretty tired by then, and kinda sick of being around Michael. "What?" I snapped.

"Look, humiliate me all you want. I don't care any more. Just don't drag my family into this. As far as I'm concerned, this is over. Keep doing whatever you like, but they didn't do anything, so leave them out of it."

Geez, he was practically shaking. You wouldn't think an emotionless bastard could get so upset over his family's reputation being tarnished. "Deal," I conceded.

Michael held the door open for me. "Give Deena my regards."

I didn't even bother to correct him. He didn't care and by then, neither did I. "Bye, Michael," I said, hardly able to maintain the coolness to my tone.

"See ya."

I walked out of there, fully sure that that would be the last time I'd ever see Michael Wilson. A lone tear trickled down my cheek, but I wiped it away quickly. So maybe I miss Michael Moscovitz just a teeny bit.

But how can I miss him when he's everywhere?


	26. Georgey Porgey

Michaels POV

"Am I supposed to feel bad now, Lilly?" I've sunken to an all time low: I've come to Lilly for advice. "She said it wasn't even her who went to the Press in the first place."

"I don't know, Michael. On one hand, she wouldn't print the retraction when you asked, but on the other, you did deserve what you got, if you ask me."

That's the kind of advice she's offering?

"Well, maybe I wasn't asking you then. Whatever."

"Michael, don't snap at me. I'm trying to help you."

"Well you're not doing a very good job, are you?"

"What do you want me to say? That everything will be all right? That Mia wasn't hurt by what you did and that it was totally acceptable and you shouldn't feel bad...Or do you want me to tell you that she'll take you back. Is that what you want?"

I frowned at her as if she couldn't be further from the truth.

"Yeah, Lilly. That's what this is all about. I'm upset over the fact that I've completely ruined my chances at getting her back. Please, as if I'd want to get back with her after what's happened."

"Keep telling yourself that, Michael. Keep telling yourself that." 

With that, Lilly got up and walked out of my trailer, leaving me alone to think it all over.

WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO?

Mia's POV

I guess we're even now. If that's the way Michael's thinking of it. 

"How did everything go so wrong?" I wailed to Tina over the phone. 

There was a silence on the other end of the phone for a minute. Then, "Because of me and my big, fat mouth. But Mia, I swear, I didn't know that guy was a reporter!"

"Relax, Tina, it's not your fault. Not entirely anyway. Things were wrong before the magazines came out."

"Then maybe it's Michael. Maybe things went wrong because he's a big jerk who doesn't deserve you."

I sniffed, I can't help it. "Thanks, Tina. You're such a good friend."

"I try," she sighed. "So, as your good friend, what can I do to cheer you up?"

"Well, as my best friend, you can take me out to the movies. Only, I beg of you, no Michael Wilson movies."

"Deal." 

Michael's POV

I woke up this morning feeling refreshed and mentally rejuvinated. And no, it's not because I slept with my Cookie-Monster rag doll. I'm sure that had nothing to do with it.

I think it's because I've decided what I'm going to do about this whole situation. And I feel good about my descision. In fact, I haven't felt this good in a long time.

My decision requires the use of the Press, but this time, I'm not going to hurt Mia with it. I think this may make her feel better.

It will ruin me, but if it makes Mia feel better, I'll feel better. 

Mia's POV

It's been a few days since my last run in with Michael. And I can't help but wonder how he's doing, what he's feeling. Does he care that he hurt me with that article? It's a good thing people in Genovia won't read it, because they already hate me enough.

Someone knocked on the door and my heart fluttered for a second. Could it be Michael?

No, that's ridiculous. Why would Michael come over? And it's not as if I even want him to, do I?

I opened the door cautiously, to find Tina was the one on the other side of it. She's holding a stack of magazines.

"Oh, Tina, what have you told them now?"

"Not me," she said. "Michael."

"Oh, God. What's he told them about me now?"

"No, Mia. It's what he's told them about himself. Look."

She handed me the pile and I read the front covers. The gist of them said 'Michael Wilson Quits Showbiz'.

"He's QUITTING?" I shrieked. "How can he just quit? He's Michael Wilson, for crying out loud!"

"Well, I guess he figures he's had enough. At least that's what it says inside. He says he's had enough of trying to be someone he's not, and that it's just not worth it any more."

"But...but...he can't just quit. He can't..." Uncontrollably, I burst into tears. "It's all my fault, Tina. All of it. And now he's quitting the only thing he loves; something he's really good at, and because of me he's not going to do it anymore!"

"Hey, it's okay..." Tina put her arm around my shoulder and led me to the couch. "Do you want to talk to him about it? Maybe get him to change his mind?"

I shook my head. "No, I don' t think that's the best idea. I wouldn't know what to say, so I'd end up saying the wrong thing, and he probably doesn't want to speak to me anyway."

"Okay, whatever you want," Tina said supportively, resting her head against my own while I cried into her sweater.

Michael's POV

I've been recieving calls all morning. But none have been from Mia.

I'm not sure how I feel about that. On one hand, I never want to speak to her again, but on the other, I want nothing more than to hear her voice on the other side of that damn phone.

But so far, nothing.

The phone rang again and I picked it up, without even looking at the caller ID.

"Hello, former teen heartthrob speaking."

"Michael Wilson?" a deep, masculine voice asked. "Is that you?" 

Not Mia. So not Mia.

"Yes, who's this?"

"Ah, I've been trying to get hold of you for the last few hours, Michael, but it seems I'm not the only one who heard the news. It's George Lucas here."

Gulp. How did George Lucas get my phone number? WHO CARES?

"Uh, hi, Mr. Lucas. How are you?"

"None of this Mr. Lucas business, son. Call me George. And I'd be a lot better if this news I'd heard of you weren't true. Is it?" 

"Yes, sir. It is."

"But Michael, I want you for my new film. I know you haven't screen tested yet, but I don't care. I'm sure you'll be perfect for the role, and I'll be willing to do whatever it takes to get you to sign on." 

"That's a temping offer, but I'm not sure if I can take it. I feel really good about my decision to quit right now. I'd have to think about it."

"Okay, well don't take too long thinking it over. Call me if you have any questions."

After giving me his PRIVATE home phone number, he hung up and left me to think about it.

Would working with George Lucas make sticking in showbiz worth it again? I didn't think anything could replace Mia, but maybe George could...


	27. In the Bag

Mia's POV

Why must I be the subject of all Lana's meltdowns lately?

"I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU DID THIS! HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO LIVE WITHOUT HIM? YOU'VE RUINED MY LIFE, YOU FREAK! ARE YOU HAPPY?"

The strange thing is…I'm not!

I'd really love to take pleasure in Lana's pain, but I feel awful already for doing this to Michael's career. I bet he didn't even quit! He was probably forced to leave after all the backlash from "my" article.

Now, all around the country—the world even!—girls are not-so-secretly hating me. They're probably burning pictures of me, or playing darts with my image.

I don't wanna be despised!

I used to be one of them! And now I'm their anti-Christ.

Some girl SPIT on me in the hall today! Can you believe that! I never spit on Michael and I have good reason to hate him!

Except I don't much any more, ever since I ruined his career and all.

Oh, God. I feel terrible. How did I get caught up in all this?

I mean, even though the article hadn't been my doing, it was still my fault. And I hadn't taken it back.

But you know what? It might not be too late to do a little repair work.

After all this is over, I never want to look at another newspaper again.

Michael's POV

I walked onto the set of the stupid princess movie the next morning, a renewed bounce in my step.

It was made all the better by the fact that I met up with Jacques while getting my morning latte.

"What are you so happy about?" he asked suspiciously.

"Oh, nothing," I said airily, taking a sip of my drink and smiling. I'd done the screen test. I was a shoo-in. George said they were auditioning the others merely as a courtesy, but that I had it in the bag.

IN THE BAG.

WAHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Should I really be drinking caffeine when I'm already at an all-time high?

Jacques looked anxious, which only added to my pleasure. He's probably worried about my impending departure from the movie world. After all, I've been like the man in his life for years now.

It's scary 'cuz it's true.

"Listen, Michael, I need to talk to you."

I arched an eyebrow, eagerly awaiting the sobbing and groveling that was sure to follow. Jacques ushered me into his office, beads of sweat already gathering on his forehead.

This should be good.

"I need a favor," he said in a strangled voice, plunking down in his leather swively chair.

"Hmm." I was no longer under his control. Come on, hadn't I just proved that I could get a starring role in a major movie without his help? Plus, Jacques' actions as of late hadn't exactly been in my best interest.

"Could you make a formal apology to the Genovian royal family? I might just have a word with Mr. Lucas if you do."

I stood up slowly, smoothing down my shirt and giving Jacques a rather patronizing grin. "George and I already shared some words. I've got the role, and you're an idiot if you think I wanna do another 'favor' for you. Fuck off, Mr. Dulles."

Swallowing, I whirled around and sped out of there.

Oh, God. I just told Jacques to fuck off. He's gonna kill me. I'm gonna get fired! I'm—

I'm not going to care.

Taking several deep breaths, I walked back to my trailer with an eerie sense of calm coming over me.

I wasn't greeted by the same peaceful atmosphere in my trailer, though.

"WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?" cried Beverly, her entire face a rather magenta hue.

Seeing as how I hadn't exactly talked over my decision to leave Hollywood with Bev, I could see where the distress was stemming from.

"It's all right," I said soothingly. "I'm doing one last movie and then I'm out."

"But why?" she wailed, sinking onto my couch with her head in her hands. I guess it is quite the blow when your star client announces he's leaving the biz.

The answer was simple. "Because I hate it."

"It's not because of the princess, then? I could completely fix that up for you."

Could she!

No, no, no! I'm leaving and they can't stop me.

And it would take more than one bloodthirsty agent to get Mia to speak to me again.

"Bev, I'm tired of acting, okay? End of discussion."

She sniffled, pulling a tissue out of her bag. "W-well, what's the movie then?"

A huge grin spread across my face, the same that appears any time I'm reminded of it.

"It's worth it," I assured her.

Mia's POV

I did it.

I called up the paper and got them to print a retraction. They didn't sound too pleased about it, but you can't refuse the princess of Genovia. Not unless you enjoy a Nordic bodyguard bashing in your skull.

Would Lars do that? I don't think I was ever briefed on just what Lars' boundaries are. Could he, say, accidentally trip Lana in the hallway? Or lock Josh Richter in a custodian's closet?

I'll have to look into this.

Anyway, the other thing I did—which took a lot more nerve than calling up the paper, let me tell you—was call up the Moscovitz household.

Not Michael…nooooooo. I apologized to his mom.

And she was WAY nicer than she should've been about the whole situation. She let me ramble on for five minutes about how I had told everything to my friend, who had gone to the press, but that it was all my fault and I never meant to tarnish her reputation or make this all so public.

"Don't worry about it, Mia," she said when I had run out of fuel. "I'm just sorry things didn't work out between you and Michael. I don't think I've ever seen him open up to another person like that."

Okay—maybe that wasn't so nice. But I deserved it.

Now, I just want to make things all right with Michael. Not necessarily back to the way we were—but I'm tired of having him as my arch-nemesis. At least I don't have conflicting feelings about Lana.


	28. Mommy Dearest

Michael's POV

Things are good. Things are right. Things may not be as peachy as they once were, when I was still with Mia and before the whole Press thing, but knowing you're going to end your career with a George Lucas movie, it just makes everything better.

Let's face it, I could be doing a lot worse. I could be ending my career with a Glitter or a Gigli. Or worse, this Princess film. Not that it's THAT bad a film, I guess, but it somehow relates to Mia's life, and I don't want to remember my last film with regrets like that.

I wish we hadn't ended things the way we did. I feel bad, but I don't think she's even interested in seeing me, let alone hearing my pathetic apology.

The phone rang and I grabbed it, taking a fleeting glance at the caller ID: mom.

"Hello, mother dearest," I said sweetly. I'm trying to be as nice to her as possible because of all the guilt I feel about her getting dragged into my mess.

"Hi, Michael. How are you doing, honey?"

"I'm great," I replied chirpily.

"So you've made up with, Mia then? I'm so glad, she was such a lovely girl, and it was all a misunderst-."

"Wait, slow down. What? I haven't spoken to Mia in days. Have you spoken to her?"

"Yes, she rang me yesterday afternoon. She explained everything, and she really is sorry."

"What exactly did she say?"

"Honey, I think it's best if you talk to her about it yourself. Second hand news is not the cleanest."

"Okay, maybe I will…"

"So what else is new? You said you were great despite what's happened."

"Well," I took a deep breath. My parents will be as happy for me as I am about being in a George Lucas movie, they've always supported me. "You know how I'm quitting acting?"

"Yes, we heard that. But we'll support you with whatever you want to do. You know that."

"Yes, well, my last film, will be a George Lucas one."

I took a second to wait for her reaction. She's silent.

"Did you hear me? I'm going to be working with George Lucas!"

"Oh, my. Michael, that's so great! But why are you quitting when you're just getting started?"

"Because it doesn't make me happy anymore, mom. And this will be a good way to leave, while I'm still peaking. I don't want to fizzle my career out. I want to go out on top. That way, maybe I'll get a star on the Walk of Fame. Who wants to put a burnt out actor on there?"

"Well, whatever you decide is fine with us, Michael. Maybe you can move back home, too…"

"Don't get your hopes up, mom. I'll talk to you later, okay?"

"Bye, sweetie."

I hung up feeling good. My parents' approval means a lot to me. And what did she mean it was all a misunderstanding with Mia?

Mia's POV

An apology. And explanation. That's what I'm here for. But I'm not going to be the only one giving them, if I'm big enough to apologise for my mistakes, then so should he be.

I knocked on his apartment door and quickly smoothed down my hair.

No answer. Where is he?

I turned around and headed for the stairs when suddenly the door opened.

"Mia?"

I turned back around, my face crimson, I'm sure.

"Er, hi. Um, can we talk?"

His face isn't wearing the self-righteous, stuck up expression I was expecting. Maybe this won't be so hard.

As soon as I stepped into the apartment, I knew I wrong. This is going to be just as hard, and then some.

"So, um…" Michael started. It sounds like he's having as much trouble as me.

"Listen, Michael. I'm just going to come out and say what I came here to say, because if I fumble around I'll never get it out. So, I want to apologise for everything that happened. I was upset that you chose the movie over me, and I didn't handle it very well. And although it was Tina who told the reporters, I should never have told Tina, so that's my fault too. So, I guess what I'm saying is, I'm sorry. And I hope you're not quitting because of what happened with us. Because of me."

I looked down, unable to look him in the eyes.

"Mia," Michael said slowly. "Before you go apologising to me, I think I owe you the truth. I don't know if it'll change anything, but I think I owe it to you."

"The truth?" I echoed. "What more is there to know?"

He sat down on the couch and I collapsed next to him.

"Well, I never chose the movie over you. Jacques wanted me to break up with you so that he could get in your grandmothers good books. But I decided that I didn't want to. That we would handle your grandmother ourselves and to hell with Jacques and that movie. If I had to sacrifice you, then it just wasn't worth it."

I gulped. How can I be hearing this? Am I dreaming? I quickly pinched myself to check. Nope, I'm awake. And I now have a sore arm.

"And that's why I'm quitting showbiz too. It's not worth it to me anymore…"

I interrupted him. "Michael, I'm so sorry, I never wanted you to quit, really. I…"

"Mia, it's okay. I don't blame you, I blame myself. But I'm okay with it. I'd rather it be like this. I mean, I'd rather that we were friends…Do you think that's possible?"

"It's what I was hoping for on my way over. I hate fighting with you."

"Great," he beamed at me. "So maybe…we can have a belated Christmas dinner? We never did get to have ours. Say, tomorrow night?"

He looks about as anxious as I feel. Only I'm sure I don't look so adorable, like a little puppy dog.

"I'd love to."

"Good, because I never gave you your present."

Oops. Michael's present got smooshed down the garbage disposal when I got back from his parents house. Maybe I can find something else…

"So, I'll come back here tomorrow night, then?"

"Sure. Seven o'clock okay with you?"

I stood up and said it was. Then, with one last intense look, I left his apartment.

It feels so good not to be fighting with him anymore. I like us much better as friends than arch-nemeses. 


	29. Exploding Easy Mac

This is it for this story. The final chapter, dun dun dun... 

We'll have a new story up for you soon, the second installment to a previous story. It'll be off the hook. Keep an eye out for it.

* * *

Michael's POV

It's a good thing I wrapped up filming on the movie, because I get the feeling it wouldn't be too comfortable working with Jacques right now.

Poor Sarah. She's got loads more scenes, and even though she didn't tell Jacques to fuck off, she'll definitely suffer the repercussions.

Also, even if I was supposed to be on the set—I so would've taken the day off to prepare for Mia's visit tonight.

I'm cooking. Is that unbelievable? It probably would've been much safer for me to get take-out or something, but I want this to be special. I know we just decided to be friends, but silly little terms don't change how I feel. And I'm pretty used to getting what I want.

Come to think of it, that's all gonna change soon. I won't have Beverly. I won't have hairdressers. And I had just gotten used to wearing make-up too!

Oh, and I won't have Lilly at my beck and call.

I lay down on my couch for a moment, feeling a little faint. What am I supposed to do? Am I expected to bring myself breakfast? Have I ever made a single appointment for myself?

I'm gonna have to hire a chef. A maid, definitely. Do I need a gardener?

Well, there is that fern in the corner. And then the window box has some daisies.

Yes, I'll hire one of those straightaway. I fumbled for my phone, but before I could dial 411, I stopped in my tracks.

What am I doing? How is it leaving show business if I take all the frills along with me? That wouldn't be fair. Even though it's not the pampering I'm tired of.

No. I'm going to be a big boy. I'll fold my own clothes and vacuum my carpet and—holy shit, is that my Easy Mac boiling over?

"Lilly," I was wailing pathetically into my phone, not two seconds later.

"What, Michael?" she groaned. But she didn't sound as annoyed as usual. I guess she senses the end of her servitude is coming.

"Can you be over here, like, right now? I think my kitchen's about to explode." I leaned over warily, looking at all the macaroni that now decorated the tile floor.

I could probably get her to just toss that in the trash too, right?

"You owe me, Moscovitz," she growled, hanging up.

I breathed a sigh of relief and hurried into my room. Lilly will get dinner under control, but I've still gotta figure out what the heck I'm going to wear.

What says "I'm your friend but if you want to we could be so much more"? Or do I want something magnetic? To where I won't be the only desperate one in the room?

I was sitting in the middle of my carpet, my room now unrecognizable beneath piles and piles of button-downs, khakis, and jeans, when Lilly arrived.

"What are you doing?" she asked incredulously, looking down at my feverish sorting.

"Okay, Lil, you're a girl. Do you guys like blue or green more? What makes my lips stand out?"

She sighed, laughing a little as she crossed my room and plunked down on my bed. "Made up with Mia, then?"

"I'm going to," I said, no longer able to keep it to myself. "And everything needs to be perfect. So could you go mop up that mess in the kitchen and make something that girls like? Then come back and go over wardrobe choices with me."

But Lilly didn't snap to it. She just glared at me. "I'm not going to do everything for you. I'm not the one trying to get on Mia's good side."

"Lilly," I said, getting impatient. A guy can't handle all this stress in one day. "This is what you're paid for."

"Fine then. But I'll make sure Mia knows who did all the work."

"Gah!" I cried, throwing down an undershirt. "What are you good for anyway?"

"Life skills," said Lilly sagely. "Now here's what I will tell you. Pick a shirt that you know Mia would like. Contrary to popular belief, we girls don't all have one mind."

That's actually really frightening. If they've all got different thoughts and emotions and whatnot, there's no WAY I'll ever figure them out.

But I don't care about the masses. I just wanna delve into the realm of Mia. I could spend a lifetime doing that.

Lilly was snapping in my face, looking amused. "Stop mooning over her for one second and tell me what kind of food she likes. I'll order take-out. But then you're on your own, Michael."

"Vegetarian," I mumbled, grabbing my Die Hard tee shirt and a pair of jeans. Maybe if I keep my attire informal, it'll make everything else more comfortable.

Pssh. I can only hope.

Mia's POV

I stood at Michael's door at seven o'clock on the dot, his present clutched tightly in my trembling hands.

Just a second or two after I knocked, the door flew open. Michael stood before me in JEANS, for Pete's sake.

Did I really just spend five hours undergoing another one of Tina's makeovers? This time, though, I hadn't let her near my face. Though I must admit, I was all powdered, mascaraed, glossed, exfoliated, and blushed.

I was starting to think that the dress was a little much, though.

It was a light blue little sundress, splashed with huge, dark blue flowers.

I am okay with being overdressed, because Michael and I are just friends. So that sort of thing doesn't even matter. "Y-you look beautiful," said Michael softly, his Adam's apple bobbing.

Okay, it's definitely worth it.

"Can I take your coat?" he offered, looking every bit as nervous as I felt.

"Um, all right." I turned around and he helped me out of it, his fingertips lingering on my bare shoulders.

"Is that my present?"

"Uh huh. Where should I put it?"

He glanced at it longingly. "The table, I guess. We'll open them after dinner. I got vegetarian lasagne."

"You like that stuff?" I asked, delighted. Michael told me he'd been on a diet for years, but he was more into smoothies and granola bars. And the occasional Big Mac when no one was looking.

"Yeah…of course I do! Come on, I set the table and everything."

To my surprise, he grabbed my hand and walked me into the dining room. There was a little Christmas tree set up in there with a solitary present beneath it. "Merry Christmas," muttered Michael, grinning sheepishly. "Now, sit! Eat! Make merry!"

He pulled out my chair and walked around the table to take his own seat. I started eating, having kind of skipped out on lunch or breakfast in preparation for tonight.

But Michael was just watching me, so I put down my fork. Do you know how tough it is to eat in front of guy, especially when he's downright staring at you?

"Did you want to sing carols or something?" I asked slowly.

He, however, didn't have holiday cheer on the brain. "I missed you," he said softly, reaching for my hand across the table. "Sorry for being such an ass lately. I didn't even get to celebrate my birthday with you like I wanted."

He missed me.

His ass is fine.

AND I FORGOT HIS BIRTHDAY.

"I didn't get you a present!" I blurted out before I could think of anything else.

Michael cracked up, leaving me puzzled. "Do you think I care about that? I'm just glad you're here. That we're not yelling at each other. And that you wore that dress. That's enough of a birthday present for me."

He stood up and walked over to the tree, picking up the little festively wrapped box. "Let's open presents right now. I'm not hungry."

I wasn't so much now either.

We both tore into them simultaneously, but before I could exclaim over the charm bracelet, Michael had tackled me into a hug. "Star Wars trilogy on DVD?" he yelped. "You're amazing!"

He better like it. I was up till one last night finding it and then wrapping it absolutely perfectly. And what had he done with the wrapping paper? Ripped it to shreds! I only hoped he'd take better care of the DVDs.

I hugged back for a good minute. It was most definitely…nice being back in his arms again. But I still didn't feel right.

"You can have the charm bracelet back," I said sadly, my gaze focused on the cute little cat charm. Just like Fat Louie.

"Is it the wrong size?" asked Michael, setting down his present. "I could get it fixed, if you want."

"That's not it! I don't feel right having this when I forgot your birthday and all."

"Are you still on about that?" he asked, kneeling at my feet. After a second, though, Michael got a mischievous gleam in his eye. "If you really want to get me a present…there is this one thing…"

He stood, pulling me to my feet as well. "What I'd really like," he whispered, pulling me even closer. "Is for us to forget about this friends business. I can't be your friend, Mia Thermopolis. So grant my birthday wish, would you?"

His words exactly. Just like that. Was it just me or was the room about a thousand degrees by then?

"Um," I responded brilliantly.

"I'll elaborate," he said, smiling. "Kiss me."

My eyes were starting to cross themselves by then, from the effort of looking at Michael while he was only inches away. Why fight it? Why fight the birthday boy? And why fight everything my mind and body have been telling me to do for at least the last week?

So I did it. I slid my arms around his neck, with a grin to match his, and met his lips with mine.

Sure, fireworks didn't explode. An unseen band didn't strike-up some happy-go-lucky love song. And the credits didn't roll.

But this was my movie magic, and I was savoring it for all it was worth.


End file.
